Sans Pareil
by J Plash
Summary: Sometimes, the greatest gifts come in the form we least expect. Sometimes, they come when we no longer expect gifts at all. In the last days of darkness, one light remains before the end. SuzaLulu, M-rated with plot. Spoilers for whole series.
1. Chapter 1: Without Equal

A/N: Welcome to a new chaptered fic (why am I starting another one? Honestly, I just can't resist :P)! Our story begins in the time of R2 ep22; after Lelouch and Suzaku take control of Britannia, but before the day the remaining Rounds attack. In time this fic will be long, and very M-rated for good reasons, though this chapter is rating-less until the last part. So if you're not up for M rating, be warned :-) Thanks to Glorfi for beta and brainstorming!

Hope you enjoy, and please review!

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_I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason,_

_Bringing something we must learn._

_And we are led to those who help us most to grow,_

_If we let them, and we help them in return._

_Well, I don't know if I believe that's true,_

_But I know I'm who I am today because I knew you._

_-- from 'For Good'_

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Chapter 1 – Without Equal

Suzaku swallowed thickly and tried to push away the apprehension as he climbed down from the cockpit of Lancelot Albion. He should be relieved, he reminded himself. Lelouch was alive. Lelouch was alive, and coming back with him. Whatever had happened to him, wounds healed with time, and he would have the best medical care in the world, and they'd be fine. He should be thrilled. He should be feeling every bit as much relief and joy and thankfulness as he had when he'd answered an unknown number on his mobile and heard his prince's—his emperor's—voice on the other end. Lelouch was alive, and in mere minutes would be here, safe, in Suzaku's arms, flying away from this place in the Albion.

As he slung his Knightmare's key round his neck, though, as he peered into the darkness for signs of movement and pulled out his mobile phone, he felt only a deep, chilling sense of dread that he couldn't explain. A fear that wouldn't go away. An apprehension that he couldn't forget.

'It's more complicated than that,' Lelouch had said, and refused to explain. 'Just…be prepared for a surprise. It'll be easier for you to just see it.'

There was nothing they could have done to him, Suzaku reassured himself, that would make any difference. There were things that might require modification of the plan, sure, but nothing that would make a difference to Suzaku. He had strong suspicions of what might await, him, anyway—or at least he'd worked by process of elimination down to the only things he could think of. Something that would shock him, something that made things more complicated than just wounds to heal—that meant a permanent injury, one visible enough and horrifying enough that Lelouch wanted to show Suzaku, not tell him.

His first thought had been Lelouch's eyes, and that had made him almost too nauseous to think of anything else. Schneizel knew of the geass, and it would be an obvious move to stop Lelouch using it. To take Lelouch's eyes…it would be the logical thing to do, for his captors. For a long minute, Suzaku's mind had flooded with images of blood, of dried, dark brown-red caked around deep scars where once had been life and fire and the most startling, stunning, beautiful shade of violet, before the geass had tainted him. As soon as he could think through those visions, though, he had realized it was—thank the gods—impossible. Lelouch had said he would see the Lancelot, and come to him. That meant he had his eyes, and that had been a greater relief than Suzaku would ever have expected.

It left, however, a limited number of possibilities. In fact, the only other option Suzaku could come up with was that Lelouch had lost a limb. It couldn't be more than one—Lelouch could walk, if he was going to trek to where he saw the Knightmare land, and he could operate a phone, so he had at least one hand. But he could have lost an arm. Apart from being extraordinarily painful, it would horrifying to Lelouch, who had always been so in love with his own beauty, so proud and so vain. It was a possibility, Suzaku reasoned, and if that was it there'd be no problem. What did an arm matter? Suzaku was here to protect him, so he didn't need two arms.

The problem was that really, beneath rationalisation and excuses, Suzaku knew that probably wasn't it. Lelouch was vain, but not stupid. If he was missing an arm, surely he would have just said that over the phone. There was no real reason it would be easier seen than explained. It was fairly simple. And so, really, Suzaku had no idea. He had no idea, except that Lelouch was here, somewhere, had suffered immensely, and had been left with something more complicated than just the wounds of torture. And Suzaku was terrified.

Only after listening carefully for signs of imminent attack did Suzaku type the number he had memorised, and only after listening again did he actually raise his phone to his ear. The dial tone sounded, the mobile phone that Lelouch had stolen from one of his dead captors flashing on the screen. The phone rang four, almost five times before Lelouch picked up. "Suzaku?"

Suzaku felt shadows of that relief wash over him once more, even through the fear. "Did you see me land?"

Lelouch paused a moment too long, and Suzaku was about to ask again when the answer came, Lelouch's voice…strange. Thick. "I'm trying to get there now, but I've lost sight of it. The trees are too tall."

Suzaku made himself put the odd tone of voice away to be considered later. He had expected that the trees might be a problem the moment he'd seen the island, and he needed to focus on finding Lelouch. "Stay there, then. I'll get the coordinates from your phone and come for you."

Suzaku heard Lelouch's moment of hesitation—he'd always hated to look weak. "Fine. I think I'm close to where you are. I'm by a small rock cave. It should be easy to find with coordinates."

Suzaku nodded, already typing into the phone. A few moments silence while a progress bar crept across the screen. And then—yes, a clear position, 560m away according to the GPS. Suzaku let the relief show in his voice—Lelouch had to be more nervous than he sounded. "You're really close, yeah. I'll be there in a minute, Lelouch. Just hold on."

"Fine." And then the steady beep that meant the other end had hung up. Suzaku was taken aback a moment, but not really surprised. He felt like _he_ could do with the phone connection for comfort, but Lelouch had never been the type. Clearly whatever he had suffered hadn't changed that, and that was a little comfort in itself. Terrible things must have been done, Suzaku knew that, but Lelouch wasn't easily broken, and Schneizel had obviously failed.

With a quick, paranoid glance back at the Lancelot, Suzaku moved slowly into the trees, one eye on the map on his phone. The thick jungle made it impossible to see more than a few metres ahead, but it was easy enough to head in the direction of the coordinates on screen. Suzaku couldn't help but wonder how Lelouch had made it this far to start with—hacking his way through impenetrable fauna was not really Lelouch's strong point, and what had looked from the air like it might be an entrance was at least a mile away. One minute, another minute, and Suzaku felt the time passing like a tangible thing as he weaved between the trees.

The map glowed dimly in his hand, full Britannian military maps that he was deeply grateful he had now, and a bright red dot where he had tracked Lelouch's stolen phone. A straight line wouldn't be possible—that looked like a small cliff, and he'd never get Lelouch back up it—but if he tracked west a little and out around the side…. Over a thick trunk, fallen some time ago by the moss on it, under a low-lying branch, through some wet, thick bushy stuff that thankfully didn't seem to have anything living in it and Suzaku was almost half way. The temptation to call out was almost irresistible—surely from this distance Lelouch would hear him, if he called loud enough. But the quiet made him nervous, the darkness, the trees that stopped him seeing more than a few metres in front of him, and if there _was_ anything, or anyone out here, he didn't want to risk attracting their attention, especially when Lelouch was still alone and vulnerable without him.

Another hundred metres. The forest was thinning a little, slowly, as he moved toward the coast, though it was a kilometre away. It made it marginally easier to move, but barely less dark—the moon was only a sliver tonight. It was another hundred metres still before Suzaku could swear he heard something, and then that had to be movement and he was running through the trees, eyes focused desperately on where Lelouch should be, maybe sixty metres away. Suzaku dodged and jumped and ducked with agility that few people had at any speed, footsteps no longer quite silent because that had to be Lelouch and yes, yes he could see him, still wearing the same white robes he'd been wearing in Tokyo the day he'd been taken, and he was only thirty metres away, less, and he must have heard Suzaku approaching because he was turning around, and—

Suzaku stopped dead twenty metres away, felt his knees shake, felt his whole body shake, and had to force himself to breathe deeply, force his legs to stay straight. Lelouch was blindfolded. He was free, he was alone, there was no one there who could have recaptured him, and yet…but that…that had to mean…Suzaku could see his face, clear through a gap in the trees, and he could see the wide swathe of black fabric covering his eyes, wrapping round his head, almost concealed under his hair at the sides. And it was too close to what had filled his mind on the phone, something more complicated than just torture, geass gone and eyes as blind as Nunnally's. No. Oh gods no. Suzaku had to force his legs to move forward. This shouldn't have been possible. He had thought of this, and it wasn't—and it was at that point, five steps closer, that Suzaku realised what was really wrong.

Lelouch had said he'd seen the Lancelot. But…there was no reason he would be blindfolded if that were possible. And there was no reason for Lelouch to lie, unless…someone else had seen the Lancelot. Someone else had been watching for it. The phone hadn't been stolen, and its owner had typed the number and had told Lelouch what to say. Someone was waiting behind those rocks. Shit. Suzaku froze, torn. Surely there couldn't be more than a few people concealed there, the cover wasn't large, and Suzaku could easily take out a few people. But if this was Schneizel's people, who had taken Lelouch, they had to know Suzaku's strength, had to have prepared for it, and that could make this dangerous. How could they have made Lelouch trap him? Could Lelouch have had a geass used against him? Control was Lelouch's power, but it was possible that there was another one similar. Or could Lelouch have allowed them to lure Suzaku here because he believed that Suzaku could overpower them once he arrived? It was possible, and if that was it, then he should go in now. But what if there was some force he wasn't counting on, what if he put Lelouch in more danger? Lelouch would never have just given him up, Suzaku knew that much. Not for anything, not under any natural duress, any amount of pain. And he couldn't just leave. He wasn't going anywhere without Lelouch. Suzaku would happily die, he'd be taken and locked up and tortured too before he'd abandon his best friend, his emperor, the one he'd betrayed a hundred times already. He was going over there, one way or another. He just needed more information…

A mere twenty metres away, Lelouch turned slightly, shifted, leaned against the rock—it was a cave of sorts, but the topographical map told Suzaku it was too small for many men—for support, and looked at nothing. He wasn't trying to see through the blindfold. He was _obviously_ blind. Any idiot could see that. Suzaku's stomach flipped again and he willed himself under control. It didn't matter. It was done. It was past, and there was nothing he could do about it. It must have been…so, so horribly painful, and Lelouch wasn't good with pain like he was, but as soon as he got him out of here Suzaku would get a doctor for him, would make sure the wounds weren't infected or anything, and there would be medication for the pain, and he would take care of Lelouch himself, and Lelouch wouldn't need eyes because Suzaku could be his eyes, could look after him every second of the day if he needed it. The loss of the geass would be a bigger problem, but the plan would still be possible without it, especially if Schneizel and most of his people were dead as Lelouch had told him on the phone—though if this was a trap, that was probably untrue.

So. Where did that leave him? Suzaku listened carefully as he picked a tree and put half a metre of hardwood between himself and the cave. Protected from gunfire, from that direction at least. It was hard to tell with the noises of the forest and the muffling of the trees, but…yes, it did sound like more than just Lelouch there. There was someone breathing, when Lelouch and the rest of the forest shut up. Not a platoon of soldiers, though. There couldn't be more than one or _maybe_ two men hiding, unless they were completely silent. Okay. He could do this. He _had_ to do this. He listened once more for others, in another direction, behind him, on either side, but he was certain. He had outstanding senses. There couldn't be more hiding, however little sense it made for there to be only those few. They must be heavily armed. Maybe thinking that with the stealth advantage they could take him out before he reached them. Stealth would explain why there weren't more. It was a good strategy, considering Suzaku was capable of fighting off twenty of them once it was close range. Probably tranquiliser darts then, high dose, fast acting, enough to completely disable him even if they only hit a limb. More effective than just bullets. That would make the most sense. So he couldn't get hit. Fine. He would have to make them fire as much as possible before he moved out from the tree, and then dodge like he'd never dodged before. There was nothing else for it. They wouldn't fire unless they knew he was there…He took one deep breath and called, loudly. "Lelouch?"

Peering around the trunk with one eye, he saw Lelouch startle, frown—probably because he couldn't hear Suzaku approaching, since he wasn't—and compose himself. No shots. "I'm here, Suzaku."

Oh gods. Suzaku bit his lip and made himself stay still behind the tree. This was all wrong. There was apprehension in Lelouch's voice, maybe even fear; there was exhaustion, pain, relief, bitterness; but no warning, no panic, no attempt to tell Suzaku with his tone that he was in danger. Just Lelouch. Just the one person who meant more to him than anyone else in the world.

"Suzaku?" Lelouch sounded impatient now, and Suzaku ignored the pain, the way his heart sank as one answer asserted itself over the rest. His emperor was under geass. There was no other way this made sense—Lelouch must have been induced by that corrupt, horrendous power to trap him here. Lelouch was no longer on his side, at least for now. He would have to rescue him against his will. Take out the others, disarm Lelouch, and get him back to Pendragon where Jeremiah could fix him. Fine. Then that's what he'd do.

Suzaku's options were limited. If he wanted whoever was there to start shooting while they could still miss, he was going to have to let them know that he knew. He didn't have Lelouch's strategic mind, but he wasn't stupid. He took one more deep breath for focus, fit himself well behind the tree, and made his voice loud and strong. "Come out, whoever's hiding! I know there's someone else there. Come out and face me!" Taunting. Provocative. "You think you can trap me? Show yourself, cowards!"

There was a long moment's silence. And then the last thing that Suzaku expected—Lelouch shuffled forward, hands outstretched, feeling his way without sight, teeth gritted and lips frowning in fury at the humiliation. "It's not a trap, Suzaku. Look. I'm quite free to move."

Suzaku fought down the horror, the bile in his throat. Lelouch had been turned against him. Schneizel had found a way to use that foul power to turn Lelouch against him. But was it possible that he had gone further? Could Lelouch have been made, not just to lure him here, but to lure him here and kill him himself? Could the too-small number of men hiding just be here to make sure Lelouch did his job? It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. But…Euphy had massacred thousands. _Suzaku_ had massacred millions with FLEIA. He knew it was possible. He'd seen it proved millions of lives over. And gods, he wanted to die. Even the blindfold could be a trap, he realised. The blindness could be a pretence to make Lelouch look weaker than he was. For a moment, Suzaku felt a bizarre sense of hope, and wanted to slap himself for it…but no. That shuffling, that helplessness wasn't a lie. It couldn't be. Lelouch was a great actor, but his pride had always been his weakness, and Suzaku just couldn't see him pretending that level of humiliation, humiliation that would so disgust Lelouch, for so little strategic gain.

Besides, it made perfect sense for Schneizel to have blinded Lelouch, even if he had now turned him against Suzaku. Realistically, Schneizel had probably had his thugs destroy Lelouch's eyes as soon as they'd abducted him, rather than let the power of the geass get anywhere near Schneizel himself. The thought made him sick, and it made him want to run to Lelouch, to hold him, to stop anyone else hurting him like everyone seemed so determined to do. But this wasn't Lelouch. Not his Lelouch. This Lelouch had been turned against him, and Suzaku couldn't afford to be weak. He rechecked his gun. Lelouch had always been the strong one, strong enough to make up for his physical weakness. Even when they were children, Lelouch had been so much colder than him, so much less soft. But Lelouch needed him now, and there was no room for mistakes. The time for games was over. He made himself be harsh, made himself yell it. "Don't come any closer, Lelouch." This was so unfair. This was so too much like the moments he regretted more than almost any other, the stupid decisions he'd made, the every time he'd gone against Lelouch and been wrong. Ten million times he'd wished Lelouch's bullet had hit its mark on Kaminejima while the battle of Tokyo raged itself into nothing. He dreamed about it sometimes; that the bullet had hit its mark in the centre of his forehead and saved the world from Suzaku's idiocy. But the geass would never have let that happen, and now here he was facing off against Lelouch again, too like the day he'd betrayed him most utterly, ignorant and naïve and foolish as he'd been. It was too much. It was too unfair. But he was in the right, this time. A _sane_ Lelouch would be with him. This was different.

Lelouch growled frustration, a hiss of breath through his teeth, and Suzaku was almost surprised, because he'd only seen this loss of control once before, once, in that cave on Kaminejima with both of them equally blinded by loss. "Damn it, Suzaku." He turned as he talked, and if Suzaku had clung to any last doubts about the truth of the blindness, they were gone—Lelouch had no idea where he was, and it was making him furious, making him wild and irrational in a way he _never_ allowed himself to be. "Just come here!" Furious and disdainful and irritated and unreasonable. "There's a reason I lied to you on the phone. I just don't want to show you through however many trees there are here. Remember I told you it was complicated?"

And it was all Lelouch, all annoyance and impatience and no pleading, no humility, despite the situation, and Suzaku so wanted to believe it. There was definitely someone hiding, but there could be another explanation. Perhaps Lelouch had escaped with someone else, and hadn't wanted to tell him over the phone in case he'd refused to trust the stranger? But Lelouch was smarter than that, Lelouch would have known what Suzaku would think when he saw the lie of his eyes, and how would what Suzaku might say about some stranger be worth that risk? He couldn't fall for that. He couldn't lose to whoever was controlling this. He couldn't afford a mistake. For Lelouch's sake. He considered his options carefully, and then his words. "Okay. If there is an explanation for this, you can show me now, from there. Right now. Otherwise, you—you aren't getting any closer to me." Lelouch clenched his fists. Suzaku pushed harder. "You show me in the next ten seconds, or I will subdue—" and he raised his voice, and made it clear that he was talking to the person in the cave—"anyone who is hiding over there….and Lelouch."

Lelouch had stopped shuffling. He was breathing more heavily—stressed. Good. Hopefully the person in the cave felt the same. He swayed unevenly with nothing to lean on, and Suzaku could no longer read the expression on the visible half of his face. "Can you see me?"

Of course. "Yes."

"And you can clearly see the rocks behind me?"

What? "Yes."

Lelouch swayed again and his frown deepened as he raised his arms for balance. "I told you it was more complicated than just…injuries."

Suzaku prayed for patience as Lelouch almost stumbled and his heart ached. Gods, they were making one hell of an effort to guilt him out of hiding. But biding his time was something he did very well—something he had done tirelessly, flawlessly, for years of working for Britannia. He just had to hold out a little longer. "I can see that."

"And I told you that there was something that would be easier for you to believe if you saw it."

"Just tell me, Lelouch." And he ignored the way it hurt to say his name, knowing the person before him was almost certainly not his Lelouch, couldn't be, not in the ways that mattered. The silence stretched, Lelouch's face creased in thought, and Suzaku knew, helpless optimism and pathetic hopes aside, that the only person he had left to live for was probably trying to draw him out to his death, and he ignored that too because life was like that.

Lelouch spoke louder than he needed to—he obviously couldn't see that Suzaku was so close. "Schneizel didn't abduct me just to get rid of me, and he didn't keep me alive just to torture me."

Which only meant he'd done more, and though Suzaku already knew that it chilled him to hear Lelouch say it.

"He has similar equipment here to what Jeremiah described to us. We clearly hadn't killed all of his scientists, and those who he had stationed here had advanced beyond what they did to Jeremiah."

And they had created another like Jeremiah? That was who was hidden in the cave? But why would that need him to see to believe? He'd seen enough of the Orange—he wouldn't leave Lelouch alone.

Suzaku shook his head and made himself put his thoughts in words. "That doesn't tell me why there's someone hiding in the cave, or why you lied to me."

Lelouch scowled and Suzaku shuddered to know it would have been a glare had there been more than half a face left to show it. "Just listen, Suzaku. Schneizel brought me here to create something very specific, and that something very specific has come with me because we can use it as well as he could, and because…" Lelouch cut himself off with a heavy breath out. "Because they…it…" And looked down at the ground, an instinct that remained despite the inability to avert his eyes. His voice was quiet, pained…sickened. "You'll understand when you see it."

And suddenly the dread was back, stronger than anything, though he had no idea what he expected. It was just a trap, Suzaku told himself. Lelouch—this Lelouch, who wasn't his Lelouch—was trying to draw him out. But the pain seemed so real. The exhaustion looked so real. That tone that far surpassed anything he'd heard from Lelouch before—when he'd told him of Damocles, when he'd spoken of Mao—this was like the way he'd spoken of his father as a child, but Lelouch wasn't ten anymore. This didn't feel like a trap. And where the geassed Lelouch of a trap set up by Schneizel would have nothing to show him, would be trying to talk him out of cover, this…wasn't. Lelouch wasn't telling him to come forward.

"You can see the rocks?"

"Yes." Suzaku wished his voice didn't sound so choked.

Then—"Come out. Show Suzaku your face. Now."

Suzaku's gun was pointing at the opening of the cave before Lelouch had finished his command, and the 'now' almost had him firing, 'because surely that meant some kind of plan, some kind of attack. But nothing moved.

Lelouch growled under his breath. "He won't hurt you. I promise."

What?

Lelouch's voice was firm, but the effort he was making to keep it soft, almost kind, was obvious and unmistakable and completely bewildering. Again. "Right now. I mean it."

And then an edge of white around the corner of the stone, and someone was coming out, slowly, hands raised high each side of his head, obviously trying to look unthreatening, though experience had made Suzaku as cautious of eyes as of hands. Perhaps it was that thought that distracted Suzaku, or his focus on the man's stance, or the one eye he had on Lelouch, or perhaps it was just that it was the last thing he could ever have expected. Perhaps it was that it had not even occurred to him that he might recognise the face, because there was no one left who mattered to them, really. Perhaps it was just his mind refusing to accept what couldn't be real. Perhaps all of those together were why the figure had edged almost the whole way out of the cave before Suzaku really froze, before he saw what the figure was wearing and then more, before his heart stopped and the gun shook in his hand and his breath quickened so much he felt dizzy. "What's going on?"

Beneath the blindfold, Lelouch laughed coldly, bitterly. "Can't you see what's going on, Suzaku? It's not Sayoko. It's not any kind of imitator or mask. Schneizel thought it might be useful to clone me. Can you see why I thought you might have trouble believing?"

Suzaku stared. The two Lelouches standing before him—perfectly identical, but for the blindfold—were the only people here. Two emperors, and he knew with a certainty that made him ill that had the other one come out first, he would have seen no flaw, would have walked right over there and into the arms of…whoever that was. Suzaku bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and made himself focus. He could hear no one else hiding, no other breath. Both had guns, but neither had one drawn.

And then…timid, scared, cautious. "Would you like me to place my weapons on the ground?" Lelouch's voice. Oh god, Lelouch's voice, but with things behind it that didn't feel like Lelouch. Hesitance, yielding.

Suzaku struggled to think, and made himself raise his weapon. Whoever the person was, _what_ever it was, it had obviously noticed Suzaku staring at the firearms in its belt. Fine. Let it try to pull anything. "I have my gun pointed at your head. Remove the weapons slowly. If I think you are raising one, I will shoot."

And…the man…the clone?...whimpered. A quiet sound of terror that could never have come from the real Lelouch.

"It's terrified of you, Suzaku," said real Lelouch murmured, and the whole thing, Lelouch's voice from both sides, Lelouch's face timid and terrified, Lelouch's wide, clear violet eyes when Suzaku knew the real ones were blind, bloodied and torn and stolen…it was too much. He narrowed in his focus to just those hands—fine, graceful hands far, far too familiar—removing the guns slowly from the belt. The thing that looked so impossibly real straightened carefully once both weapons were harmlessly laid in the dirt. Suzaku turned, oddly numb, back to the blind man who looked _less_ like Lelouch than the copy did, but was indisputably the real one. "Lelouch?"

More laughter, quiet and poisonous. "You think I'm going to shoot you, Suzaku? When I can't even see you?"

"I—"

"Fine." The question had been rhetorical. "Here." Precise, sure hands fumbled the weapons like they never would have and took a few seconds longer to remove them than they would have with sight. Lelouch almost fell when he bent over, clearly totally unused to moving without his vision—he must have been restrained for the past two months. Suzaku forced himself to stay still until Lelouch had discarded the guns, pressed his palms to the ground and used them to push himself clumsily back to standing. He was completely helpless. He could barely even manoeuvre himself. It made Suzaku sick to his stomach, and it made him more sick to stand and watch it and do nothing to help. Lelouch seemed to feel roughly the same. "Are you satisfied now, Suzaku?"

Suzaku stared numbly at the weapons on the ground. They had disarmed themselves. They had freely taken off their weapons. They had no means of causing him injury. But…that didn't make sense. If this was a trap, how could they do that? If they were completely unarmed…and there was no way Lelouch could hurt someone unarmed, let alone hurt Suzaku, Lelouch just wasn't…but…then…gods…was it possible? Could it…really… "You…you really are yourself?"

Lelouch sighed impatiently. "Yes."

Suzaku considered that with what didn't feel like much objectivity at all. Oh gods, gods he wanted to believe it. But he couldn't be fooled. He couldn't let down his guard, if there was still any chance…so what did he need to prove? His mind was moving too fast, too desperate to run to Lelouch and fix this. There had to be a way to prove that it was him. If he really was unarmed…then Suzaku only had to make one more check. He tried his hardest not to sound too eager, too desperate, and mostly failed. "Can I check you both for hidden weapons?"

He could see in the way Lelouch's lips twisted, though he was sure it wasn't possible to tell from just that, just how his friend would have rolled his eyes. "If you want." Lelouch shuffled round, turning on the spot, toward the clone. "Stay still, Lelouch. Let Suzaku check you. Don't move a muscle."

And there it was again, the wave of nausea, hearing Lelouch call the thing, whatever it was, by his name. How could he? How could Lelouch, proud, vain Lelouch who had never given up that part of his name even when he hid under an alias, just throw his name to some…creation? Some creature? Suzaku breathed deeply, made himself slow, made himself focus. There would be time for that later, if this was Lulu, and if it wasn't, if this _was_ a trap…then he would figure something out. He had to check them for weapons. He had to know. So he didn't question it, just focused again, and stepped slowly, cautiously as possible, out from behind the tree. He crossed the last fifteen metres at snail's pace, gun raised, the clone's hands each side of his head again, Lelouch struggling once more to stay upright. It took every last bit of resolve he had to step past Lelouch, to walk right past him without a word, without a touch, but he couldn't afford to trust, not until he'd made this last check, and he had to check the clone first, since it had the advantage of sight. It flinched as he stepped close. Suzaku collected his resolve and pressed the gun firmly to the back of its head. "I'm going to pat you down for weapons. Don't move."

"Don't move at all," Lelouch echoed, still swaying, bent arms keeping balance. Suzaku couldn't read his tone, and he stopped himself trying to.

The thing that answered to 'Lelouch' flinched again, violently, as Suzaku patted up its ribs—and had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have known that even this was a perfect copy, but he knew every inch of Lelouch's body better than any other, and this was same enough to tear his heart in two. But Lelouch murmured quiet words of reassurance—for the clone, not for him—from where he stood, more stable when he didn't try to move, soft words that Suzaku couldn't understand. And slowly, the clone stilled, then relaxed altogether, let Suzaku guide its limbs with no resistance. By the time he had carefully, cautiously removed the ridiculous half-cloak and its sashes and checked one arm then the other, the thing was turning into his grip, meeting him like some small, nuzzling creature, and Suzaku was quickly becoming downright disturbed. Then he moved to its legs, and the whimper it let out was entirely different and too close to something horrifying familiar and Suzaku's eyes widened and flickered reflexively to Lelouch in time to see him scowl darkly. Suzaku took a deep breath and finished the standard weapon check he'd learned and practiced as a soldier enough to do it without thought. Whatever was going on here, it was…strange. It was becoming harder and harder to believe that this thing was here to kill him. And that meant that Lelouch…

Suzaku approached his oldest—his only, now—friend far more tentatively than he had the copy. He didn't even realise how loudly—deliberately loudly—he was walking until Lelouch pulled him up on it. That same cold laughter. "I don't need your pity, Suzaku. If you think I'm trying to kill you, compensating for my lack of eyes by stomping is rather stupid, don't you think?"

Lelouch gesticulated wildly as ever, though it put him off balance, and sneered and scowled, though his eyes no longer burned with it, and if this was somehow someone else, if someone had managed to impose their will on Lelouch without changing a one of his moods or his flaws or his impulsive hostilities, it might just kill Suzaku, he thought.

He paused an inch from his friend and called up every suspicion and betrayal and horror that dwelled in his memory and firmly silenced the corner of his mind that said Lelouch was welcome to bury a knife in his back, if only he could hold him right this second and never let go. It didn't help him sound less weak. His voice barely made it to a whisper. "I need to check, Lulu. It was you who taught me to be paranoid."

The laughter this time didn't last more than a second. "Don't you think it's strange, Suzaku? That you touch the clone more easily than me?"

Suzaku didn't catch himself in time to hide his confusion. "What?"

The slightest shake of the head. "Go on. Check. I'm unarmed now. You know where all the pockets in this outfit are anyway."

That much was true, but no chances. Suzaku placed his hands gently as possible over Lelouch's ribs—he had no idea where other injuries may lie. Slowly down his sides, and no broken ribs, thank the gods, though Lelouch was even skinnier than he had been, and Suzaku hadn't thought that possible. It couldn't be healthy. He didn't draw Lelouch back against him when he moved to check his front, hands across his stomach, however much he longed to, because he couldn't let his guard down that way and because he knew it would infuriate Lelouch. Hands smoothing up across his chest and a sharp intake of breath that made Suzaku think maybe there was a wound there, or a scar, or just bad bruising, it was impossible to tell through the clothing. His lungs as they rose and fell felt too exposed beneath Suzaku's fingers, as though skin and bone were paper, and they probably were; it felt like Lelouch hadn't eaten in the whole ten weeks he'd been gone.

Lelouch didn't struggle as Suzaku loosed the invisible ties that held the cloak on and drew it off, just huffed discontentedly as he shook it out and quickly checked the inside pockets and slung it over his arm. Nothing. One stick-thin, weakened arm and then the other, Lelouch stiff and hostile as surely the clone should have been. Jacket tight to his back, too tight to hide anything, and as Suzaku ran one hand there, the other at Lelouch's chest, holding him upright lest Suzaku accidentally push him over, he felt every vertebra through the skin and two layers of fabric. Suzaku closed his eyes a moment as he pressed around Lelouch's bony shoulders, his collar, and prayed for strength. Then familiar thighs and familiar calves and he held Lelouch's knee up, cradled in one hand, as he pulled one boot loose, a cursory check, then eased it back onto a delicate foot not made for jungle trekking, and the same on the other.

Nothing. There was really nothing. The hat was the last thing to check, and it was just a silly looking hat, just as it had always been. He wasn't armed. Neither one of them was armed. Neither of them was trying to kill him. No one here was. And if no one was trying to kill him, then this couldn't be a trap. And if this wasn't a trap…oh. Lelouch didn't turn to face him. "Are you done?"

Suzaku couldn't breathe. "Lulu…"

"Don't call me that."

Of course he wasn't in the mood for nicknames. "Lelouch, I…" Lelouch still hadn't moved, and it felt wrong to reach for him when a second ago he'd been patting him down as a potential enemy. Suzaku whispered the only thing he could think of that might not make Lelouch angry. "I'm so glad you're alive."

Lelouch didn't say anything, and still didn't move, and Suzaku was about to give up and just hug the idiot until Lelouch remembered that it made him happy too, when the clone shifted loudly, and Suzaku remembered that they had somewhat more pressing issues. Lelouch loved him, Suzaku honestly believed that, even if he was less demonstrative about it than he was about anything else at all. But Lelouch was also supremely practical, and he would, of course, appreciate any attempt Suzaku could manage to deal with practicalities first. So he stayed hovering a metre from his emperor and reminded himself that the clone was watching. "What are we dealing with, Lelouch?"

And at last, Lelouch turned round, slowly, a little more accurately than before, to listen. He also drew a step back, a step away from Suzaku, and though it killed Suzaku to let him shift away like that, he let it go. Lelouch had been through a lot. He probably just wanted to concentrate, deal with business as Suzaku had expected. That was okay.

More concerning was the look on his face, the tension in his jaw that was usually covered before it could be seen. His voice was resigned, neutral as could be for the subject matter, with only the faintest trace of hurt. "It has my mind. All my skills, all my brilliance. It could be useful to us."

Suzaku nodded mutely, not coming close to comprehending most of the words, then realised what he'd done and murmured a guilty 'yes', still unable to take his eyes off the bandage. It was a rougher fabric than he would first have guessed, probably ripped from a bag or a tablecloth or a uniform or who knew what—neither of the two Lelouches was wearing any black. And they weren't two Lelouches.

It was then that the mirror image—more than a mirror image, 'cause it wasn't reversed—moved, and Suzaku felt his stomach drop and his breath catch and his knees become oddly unstable again as it came to Lelouch's side. Knowing this was real, this was all real, and it was _his_ Lelouch who had been distorted this way, used this way…it felt so much harder than it had five minutes ago. The clone clung to Lelouch, huddled small, fingers twisted gently into the collar of his long coat. Suzaku blinked. Okay…the familiar black-haired head, complete with identical hat bowed and hid in Lelouch's shoulder so that only one bright, violet eye with no trace of geass fixed on Suzaku and flitted away.

And then—"Suzaku—" the clone breathed in Lelouch's voice, with a softness and uncertainty and fear that Lelouch would never let show so clearly, and Suzaku could only gape, eyes wide, as his best friend, his whole life put his arms loosely around the creature and rested his chin in its hair and whispered "Yes," with a tiredness and a resignation and a pain Suzaku had rarely seen over all the years they'd been together, as friends or enemies or in between. "He's safe, don't worry," the real Lelouch whispered, and Suzaku breathed deeply and tried his best to stay upright, because they—he—Lelouch—needed him. "He's safe like me. He won't hurt you."

And the clone looked up, took his face from Lelouch's shoulder, though he remained pressed against him, and looked at Suzaku with timid eyes and something like awe, and slowly, the smallest, most uncertain smile. Suzaku couldn't even think about returning it. The sound of the thing drawing in breath sharply through its nose could have been the only sound in the world, smile wavering, shaking in Lelouch's arms as it huddled further into the original's body and gazed up at Suzaku from under its eyelashes, under lids half lowered in fear or deference or who knew what.

And then Suzaku's eyes were back on the one he'd come for as he drew in breath in just the same way, though with different emotions behind it, gritted his teeth and looked up...at what would have been eye level. At where Lelouch thought he might have met Suzaku's eyes. Why was this still so painful? Could he not just accept that that part of Lelouch had been stolen? But that this was it—that the wound would never heal, that Lelouch would never meet his gaze again…his eyes had been so beautiful, even guilty and ugly and a torturous reminder as they were. His eyes had said so much, when Suzaku could bring down his guard.

And then Lelouch spoke, arms still around the clone, and Suzaku was thoroughly distracted from his eyes. "He has some of my memories." Pain and panic and anger in the smooth, clear, familiar voice, and Suzaku couldn't process what he was hearing. "He remembers…" a breath of hesitation "…Euphy and Nunnally." A tear of pain in his chest, a familiar pain, but it was much easier to ignore when he was in this much shock. Lelouch's head moved unnaturally, unguided by a direction in which to look as he continued. "Not in any detail, but…" a loud breath out, frustration, anger, desperation? "I think he remembers the three of us—Euphy and Nunnally and me—as children, and he remembers that Euphy's dead, and that it's my fault…" shaking his head too rapidly, "he calls it 'our' fault, he thinks it was me and him."

Suzaku opened his mouth and closed it again and finally managed a completely insufficient "Oh."

The clone's head jerked up at his voice, wide violet eyes untouched, and its lips opened and closed again and again, wildly, clearly unsure of what it could say.

And Suzaku felt his knees finally all but give out, though he held himself up by force of will, his stomach churn and his head spin as he realized what Lelouch was telling him and several things fell into place. "It remembers me."

Lelouch smiled tightly, the smallest smile and Suzaku couldn't understand it without familiar eyes to give meaning but he was beginning to guess. "Of course."

Calm. Lelouch needed him to be calm. "What does he remember about me?"

The clone looked back and forth between them as though torn, almost stepped out of Lelouch's arms then huddled itself small again, shivering, and Lelouch's grip on it tightened.

"I'm not sure."

It didn't sound remotely like the truth. Suzaku waited.

Lelouch took a deep breath in and out. "I'm not sure exactly."

Suzaku watched the way the clone was shaking, the tension in Lelouch's jaw, all the things he wasn't saying, and wished he had his eyes to read. "Lelouch…"

"He thinks he loves you."

It was so quiet Suzaku almost, almost hoped he was hearing things, but the bitterness in the statement was too sharp to have imagined.

"He knows you hurt me once, so he's more wary of you than he is of me, but…"

It killed Suzaku not knowing what his friend was thinking. He took two slow breaths before choosing the best line he could think of. "It's going to be okay, Lulu."

Lelouch laughed harshly, angrily, and Suzaku cursed under his breath—he'd obviously chosen badly.

"Oh, of course it is! In fact, it's great for you, isn't Suzaku? Who needs pathetic, deformed, can't see to speak in the right direction Lelouch when you've got a conveniently untouched, easier, less troublesome me to fill in?"

"Lelouch—"

"Though really, my eyes don't even come into it, do they? Even if I were in perfect working order, you'd be thrilled."

"Le—"

"A nice, docile, agreeable replacement who doesn't argue back and won't ask a thing of you and doesn't make plans or cause trouble or _think_—you must think all your wishes have come true at once."

Suzaku clenched his fists and told himself it would be wrong to violently shake a blind man.

"I couldn't care less, Suzaku. Have it." The clone stumbled slightly as Lelouch shoved it, hard, in slightly the wrong direction, and stood shivering and uncertain and very little like Lelouch between them. "But you'll regret it. You'll see soon enough that no pathetic clone can match me—"

Lelouch was yelling at a tree to Suzaku's left now, and this was going nowhere.

"_No one_ can match me, and you'll—"

Suzaku crossed the small space to Lelouch in two steps, completely ignoring the clone, turned him back to face him with a firm grip on his biceps, and ignored Lelouch's attempts to struggle away as he pulled the idiot, the ridiculous idiot against him.

Lelouch held himself stiff and hostile in Suzaku's arms. "I don't need you. I don't need anyone."

Suzaku could think of several things that it would probably be nice to say, but he was too annoyed with Lelouch to bother being nice.

"Stop being stupid. We're going home."

Lelouch stopped struggling predictably quickly—captivity hadn't made him any physically fitter—but didn't yield. "And what am I going to do there, Suzaku? The clone's going to have to replace me in most of the plan, and it's _crazy_ about you, so you can make it do it as well as I could."

Suzaku bit his tongue hard before he could waste time telling Lelouch what a lunatic he was.

Instead, "Tell the clone to follow us," he ordered quietly, and without asking for permission he knew he wouldn't get, picked Lelouch up easily, held him easily cradled against his chest despite the inevitable struggling.

"Suzaku! Put me down."

Suzaku ignored the order and headed purposefully back toward the Knightmare. "What do you call it?"

Lelouch's mouth twisted harshly, and even without burning eyes Suzaku could read fury, derision, shame, bitterness, mocking anger, despair, despite the darkness under the canopy. "What do I call it? Lelouch, of course. It'll need to answer to that if I'm to have it replace me."

And Suzaku did see the sense in that, but it felt…too wrong. He held Lelouch tighter as he ducked a branch. "Will it answer to 'clone'?"

Lelouch shrugged awkwardly, lips sneering. "I'm sure it'll answer to whatever you want it to."

Suzaku gritted his teeth and reminded himself that Lelouch had been locked up being tortured for more than two months, and thus probably deserved some tolerance. He didn't loosen his grip on the frail body that still felt so familiar to him, despite the last bit of bodyweight he'd lost, as he turned back the way he'd come. The clone froze immediately, following along a metre behind them, obviously slightly more co-ordinated than Lelouch if it was keeping up through the trees in those clothes.

Suzaku met its eyes rather than calling it the name that would never belong to it. "Follow us. Do you understand?"

The thing that looked so like Lelouch and so unlike him nodded earnestly, and while Lelouch had said it had his mind, his brilliance, Suzaku was beginning to seriously doubt that it had any of Lelouch's skills at pretence and manipulation…or, at the least, any inclination to use them.

"Can you speak?"

More nodding. "Yes, master."

Suzaku shut his eyes and tightened his grip on Lelouch as his whole body shuddered involuntarily.

"Don't call me that. Just stay close."

Suzaku had half-way turned around when—"How close?"

Lelouch laughed, an edge of madness making the sound ugly, and Suzaku ignored it. "Just follow. Don't lose sight of us."

"Yes, mas—"

The clone cut itself off awkwardly, and Suzaku turned around and started walking again before he could snap, before he could run back to the underground labs that showed from the sky only as clearings in the trees and kill everything there again, though Lelouch had assured him on the phone that they were all dead. Someone had to suffer for this. Someone had to pay for what they'd done to Lelouch.

Right now, though, Lelouch was in his arms, and all that mattered was getting him safely back to Pendragon where he could protect him and tend his wounds and _somehow_ make the idiot remember that Suzaku loved him with all his heart and soul, eyes or none. They were going to be fine. Well, they were going to be as fine as they'd ever planned to be. Who needed eyes? The clone's steps were loud behind them—it was less clumsy than Lelouch, yes, but it didn't have a fighter's stealth. In Suzaku's arms, Lelouch slowly relaxed, step by step back through the jungle, too tired and too weak to hold the tension in his body. Up ahead, Lancelot Albion became more and more visible between the trees. He really shouldn't be surprised anymore, Suzaku reflected. They had agreed to pay the price for peace, and after all they'd done they should probably have known the world would ask more of them than just life and death. That didn't make Suzaku any less sick to the stomach, and it didn't make looking at Lelouch broken in his arms any less painful.

So they would be as fine as they had ever planned to be, for as long as Lelouch planned to be.

Some cold comfort that was.

***

_In his massive bedroom in his massive suite in his massive palace in the imperial city of Pendragon, Lelouch rolled out of bed, and Suzaku raised an eyebrow. Suzaku was on his back in Lelouch's massive bed, still catching his breath, and he wasn't about to stand up any time soon. But Lelouch had a minor tendency for silliness after good sex, and Suzaku had learned what seemed an age ago to humour him just for the laughs that inevitably resulted. Besides, he wasn't really good at much _other _than humouring Lelouch when they'd just made love. Suzaku smiled wryly to himself. Maybe he was silly too._

_Lelouch paused by the table where his shoulder sashes were neatly folded, because he'd taken them off some time before he'd talked Suzaku in here (with every insistence in the world, of course, that Suzaku had been begging _him _). He ran one slow finger over a stupidly oversized red gem, down again and tracing around glowing gold embroidery. Suzaku reflected dimly that Lelouch really must have the most beautiful, graceful, exquisite hands in the whole world, for him to actually be looking at them, when Lelouch was standing there perfectly nude in a fully lit room like a work of art. Lelouch only turned the lights off when he needed comfort—when the old depressions overcame his strength and crawled under all his purpose to weaken him, and Suzaku had to yell and be harsh and shake him back to sense before he could hold him close in the dark for hours. The rest of the time, Lelouch was enormously visual, very aware of his own good looks, very fond of them, and considerably so of Suzaku's as well, to his knight's considerable amusement._

_So it didn't really surprise Suzaku when Lelouch draped the long stretch of fabric over his arm and wandered deliberately—knowing he was being watched, knowing he was beautiful to watch, and taking pleasure in every second of it, Suzaku was sure—to the full length mirror that was bigger than any other mirror Suzaku had ever seen, anywhere. Lelouch started contemplatively a moment at his reflection—gods he was ridiculous, and so stupidly adorable—brushed a few bangs out of his eyes, glanced quickly away from his contacts. Ran three fingers slowly, lingeringly—that had to be deliberately—down his neck, arching into the touch, chin lifting just slightly in shivers of residual pleasure. He traced the fingers out along one sharp, straight collarbone, paused at his shoulder, put a thumb and forefinger each side of his chin in half a second's consideration and draped the elaborate sash around his shoulders with an unreadable smirk. Suzaku bit his lip, hard, to stop himself laughing. He thought he might fall off the bed if Lelouch started posing, that or go over there, drag him back to bed and kiss every inch of him until he had no doubt that Suzaku thought he was just as beautiful as he thought he was himself. _

_But Lelouch didn't pose—just straightened the sash a little, straightened himself a little, bowed his head slightly, and looked up from under his eyelashes a long moment. "Suzaku?"_

_Suzaku propped himself up further on his elbows and made himself keep his voice straight. "Yes, Lulu?"_

_The slightest shake of the head, scorn barely making it to violet eyes in the mirror, and no serious anger. "Don't call me that."_

_Suzaku smiled what he knew was fondly, and pretended wasn't, 'cause it was ridiculous how Lelouch disarmed him with a look. "Yes, _Lelouch_, my emperor?"_

_Lelouch rolled his eyes and Suzaku grinned as the great emperor of Britannia and soon, if all went to plan, which he'd make sure it did, everything else, straightened up and looked once more at the vision of himself in the mirror. All white, white skin and burning eyes and hair that always looked stunningly windblown, whether tossed by the actual wind or in here late at night, tousled and bed-mussed. Sharp lines, stark cheekbones and collarbones and hip bones that stood out without a trace of body fat to soften them, long, graceful lines, because Lelouch was so tall, and he knew how to carry it. Very little muscle, but it didn't matter, he didn't need it. Delicate feet and elegant calves and long, lean thighs and a perfect behind of which Suzaku was maybe just the smallest bit possessive. Lelouch was half hard, almost, Suzaku could see in the reflection, just from looking at himself, and that no longer surprised Suzaku either, though it did make him smile. Lelouch was just like that, had been for a long time, and it didn't bother Suzaku. They hated themselves enough. It was nice that Lelouch knew how beautiful he was. Never mind that watching him stroke himself to his own reflection, whisper irrationalities to himself and lick his lips and throw back his head and come hard against the glass, teeth sinking into his bottom lip in the most sinful way, one hand bringing himself to climax and back again while the other clung to the glass and held him upright…was incredibly erotic, and Suzaku would rather have that side of Lelouch than have him stuck with the virtue of modesty any day. It wouldn't suit him anyway._

_Today, though, Lelouch didn't touch himself._

_Today, Lelouch wasn't even looking at himself anymore. His fingers had moved on to trace that heavy gold embroidery that marked all his clothing, up and down a golden wing, circling the massive red gem at the base of the sash then trailing over golden chain and off the end of a huge green glass teardrop._

_His fingertips brushed once across his hip before he spoke, skimming sharply visible bones and soft skin, and Suzaku didn't miss the way his emperor's arousal responded to that. His voice was quiet, his smile wry, calm._

"_I am sans pareil, Suzaku, aren't I? I am without equal."_

_Oh gods. He was ridiculous. He was so terribly vain. But it was so innocent, beneath all the horror that had taken them. And, well…Lelouch was right. His brilliant mind. His beautiful, glorious, stupidly pleasure-giving body, his smiles, his fury, the sound of his voice. And that innocence. The soul Suzaku loved, here at the end of all they'd done. That goodness. That giving. That selfless compassion, equal to all the pride. Lelouch was without match. Lelouch was the most beautiful thing in the world._

"_Yes," Suzaku whispered, sitting up enough to make sure Lelouch could see his smile in the mirror. "Yes, Lelouch, you are."_

_***_

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A/N: I hope you're enjoying it so far! Chapter 2 is up now; make a story alert if you'd like to read more :D And please review!


	2. Chapter 2: Visceral

NB: A year ago today, the final episode of Code Geass aired :( Needed *something* for today ;D, so rushed this a bit and at last, chapter 2! Might be worth rereading the first chapter, since this may have been the longest update gap in the history of ever :P Thank you so much everyone for waiting, and I hope everyone enjoys :) First 3 sections PG (T), last section NC-17 (MA). Slash, don't like, don't read ;-)

***

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Chapter 2 - Visceral

_It was dark, deep darkness here where people no longer came. Suzaku clung easily to the shadows, and it still felt strange to sneak in here, though this wasn't the first time he'd done it in the years since it had been his home. Above, the sky was clear but moonless tonight, and the stars were dimmed by city lights. They didn't quite reach here, but finished only a kilometre back the way he'd come. There were far fewer now than there had been eight years ago. Far fewer than there had been three months ago—three months and five days._

_Suzaku had climbed the hill by foot. Lancelot was miles away at the temporary consulate, flown in this morning for no one knew what reason—Japan might no longer be technically Britannian, but under continued ceasefire, and with the relative popularity of the ninety-ninth emperor, no one questioned the motives of the emperor's knight (the white demon, the devil's right hand). __The temporary consulate in the Tokyo Settlement was in fact a large float ship, not dissimilar to the Avalon. The general populace assumed this was because of the difficulties with rebuilding; Suzaku, of course, knew that Lelouch had more than sufficient resources to get a new consulate built in no time, had he wished to. The Britannian Consulate in Tokyo was a float ship for very good reasons. Given their joint fault in the destruction of their hometown (_both _their hometown), Suzaku and Lelouch had taken the rebuilding of Tokyo rather seriously. Taking rebuilding seriously meant putting good men in Tokyo, and putting good men in Tokyo meant needing to get them out quickly when the Federation deemed it time to move against Lelouch. There'd been no sign of it yet, but neither of them had any doubt it would happen soon enough if the conditions didn't arise for them to make their move first—another inevitability, just like all the rest. So the Britannian consulate was a ship, parked across the opposite side of the crater to Ashford Academy because Suzaku had been left to choose, and the thought of accidentally running into Rivalz or Milly or another familiar face was less than appealing._

_Thus Lancelot had flown in that morning to a landed float ship bright against the destruction. Three hours later, the emperor had gone on television to remind Britannia (and the world, because when Emperor Lelouch spoke, the world listened) that the scourge of FLEIJA must not be allowed to repeat, and that all those who would use it to threaten us must be stopped. So perhaps that was why the emperor and his knight were in Japan. The emperor mentioned in his broadcast that he'd just toured the crater and the rebuilding, which he was funding (at least until Kaguya decides to evict us, thought Suzaku), and he was pleased with the infrastructure progress, though also saddened, and angered, and strengthened once again in his resolve to wipe out the enemies of peace (Schneizel—Suzaku could imagine hating no one more, since geass wasn't a someone but a thing—and probably the Black Knights)._

_It was funny, no one had seen the emperor at the crater, or at the rebuilding, or anywhere else, but a few had seen the Knight of Zero, and he never left the emperor, so maybe the emperor was in disguise or something. Fans—and there were fans, plenty of them, Lelouch was a charismatic leader—avidly scanned their snapshots for faces, zoomed in on an obscured figure next to Kururugi that might have been him. In the Student Council building at Ashford Academy, Rivalz Cardamonde watched on television as Milly reported that the emperor would only be in town for today and would have no time for audience, and avoided his name like she always did if she could._

_In a room deep in the temporary consulate, Kururugi Suzaku pulled a media disc from the player and snapped it neatly into smaller and smaller pieces, not to be found by another or accidentally used again by him. One more two-month-old film used and erased. Cover the tracks. He poured the pieces into his pack and wondered whether he'd wish one day that he'd kept the discs in tact, even fake and clichéd as the recordings were. It didn't matter. Nothing else did, now._

_There was little useful for him to do here until tonight, and after a moment Suzaku sat down again and stared at the blank screen. He wished he'd come here later in the day. He wondered whether this act was all futile. He prayed he wasn't waiting for nothing._

_***_

_Eleven hours later—funny, how 'eleven' had become a cursed number here—Suzaku reached the top of a very familiar hill and hovered in the deep shadows of a cedar tree a moment to listen. He was glad this place hadn't been burned away, though he'd trade it in a second for the consulate—for Nunnally—to have survived, or for any of the buildings full of thousands of people to have been spared instead. Had the blast been here, the radius would have encompassed a fraction of the number of people. His special kind of bad luck that the shot he hadn't controlled, the shot he'd never wanted to fire had landed right where it would hurt the most._

_No one had seen him leave the consulate unless they'd been watching for him, no one had known he was going, and even if he had been watched he doubted anyone could follow him all the way here without alerting his attention._

_Still._

_Silence._

_Nothing._

_There was no one on the stairs, obviously, and as he scanned each tree Suzaku could see nothing but shadow. There could, theoretically, be someone hiding _behind_ one of them, but they would have to have made it here through the empty streets ducking out of sight in complete silence each time he checked over his shoulder. It didn't seem likely._

_Suzaku kept his gun in one hand as he prepared to step out of cover and pass through the gate—red even in the moonlight, red to shout his presence. The old associations, the things the red had once meant to him seemed weak now. Red that drew the eye. Red for guilt. No one here knew he'd fired FLEIJA—he knew Nina would never say a word to anyone, he trusted Lloyd and Cecile to stay silent, Gino and Cornelia had both disappeared off the map and Schneizel was being mysteriously silent—probably because he knew Suzaku would come peel off his skin and do to him whatever he'd done to Lelouch tenfold if he found out where he was. So no one here had tried to blame Suzaku for what he'd done. But the gods knew—of that he was absolutely certain._

_And yet here he was. Guiltier than he'd ever imagined possible, and here to beg anyway. Some days, Suzaku thought he really had lost his mind eight years ago._

_But nothing else was left. Lelouch was nowhere. It had been two months. And right now, Suzaku was nowhere as well. He had no idea what to do. No idea where to go. No idea but here. Because once upon a time, before he'd been broken, if not before Lelouch had been, he'd dragged his only friend up a tree by his skinny wrists to sit on the high wall just there, and they'd swung their legs off the side and Lelouch's hair had been just long enough to fly everywhere in the breeze at the top and he'd pointed out things in the city below until it got too dark, then Lelouch had pointed out things in the stars until someone came searching and scolding to drag them down and send Lelouch back to Nunnally and yell at Suzaku for hanging around with the hostage like a vagabond again._

_So it hadn't quite been idyllic._

_But if anywhere remembered—if the gods of any place might remember the Lelouch _he_ did, if any place might still know that his heart was good, that they could do this, fix things, if the gods of any place might remember enough to set aside the mistakes they'd made and help them...then it would be here, where Suzaku could look up and see the same bricks that had scraped Lelouch's palms when he was nine years old._

_There had been good times—gentle times, once upon a time._

_They could never go back there. But they had—found something, rebuilt something, built something new from what they remembered and what they'd never forgotten, what they'd fought and what they'd lost and what they had left. Grasped a final something out of the promise that they'd be nothing, together. Silent vows and surface jokes that meant everything and some kind of impossible understanding that shouldn't make sense and shouldn't be possible anymore but...is. Was._

_So he checked his gun one more time, looked up and down the path again, back down to the street, into every shadow...and ran across the break, moonlight on a plain black jacket that just missed the ground (the cloak was…conspicuous, and heavy), through the gate and back into the shadows on the other side._

_For ten whole seconds, Suzaku stayed perfectly still, concealed just inside the entrance, and listened. Nothing. The slow rush and sway of wind in seas of cypress and cedar. A skitter easily traced to a squirrel making the same dash in reverse a few metres away, out of the bushes and into the danger of moonlight, out of the shrine into the wide world of more trees and more food (and more predators). Not a footstep. Not a breath. No fabric catching on bark or leather soles moving almost silent on dirt or on stone. Suzaku searched every angle—every eave of the buildings now visible in the compound, every branch and every step and every tall, straight trunk. Nothing._

_And then, finally, he allowed himself to look around._

_Nothing had changed. How nothing had changed, he wasn't sure—the people of Tokyo had so many feelings, so many questions and answers to associate with this place that someone, surely, should have scrawled something on a building or left a mess of trash after taking refuge here, on returning to the struggle of day and night and life, but...there was nothing. No one had been here._

_It wasn't that strange, he supposed. Thousands, probably millions had hated him during the time he worked under Lelouch's father as the Knight of Seven, but many of those would have associated this place with his line rather than him personally, possibly revered it for that, not to mention that the whole compound was technically temple grounds._

_The temple, of course, hadn't been active since Prime Minister Kururugi's 'suicide'—it was so easy now to ignore the taste of bile in his throat, the way his head throbbed and spun just a little—had cursed the place, and that would have been enough to keep away those for whom the name Kururugi still meant something good._

_So this place was empty, and blank, and the dark covered up eight years of decay and dust._

_It was so, so tempting to breathe out and follow his feet, to go where he knew they'd take him, across the moonlit path and over to the wall and around the far building until he could see a little white storehouse; up to the step so he could reach out and open the door that might or might not still work. He'd cross over into the dust and it'd be too dark to see with only the moonlight through the tiny high windows but he'd know the way in the dark, even if his strides were longer now. And he'd sit on the steps where he'd huddled with Lelouch and eaten hot nuts when they'd both been small enough to fit one blanket round their shoulders; Lelouch's blanket that Suzaku wouldn't have needed to fit under except that he'd put all his coats on Lelouch because he was tiny and always shivered, and the idiot had put most of his own coats on Nunnally (who looked almost as ridiculous as her brother, crammed into her little wheelchair in a massive ball of insulating fabric)._

_Suzaku didn't go there. There were ghosts here, now. There were ghosts in that tiny storehouse, of a child Lelouch no longer had inside him, and of Nunnally, Nunnally who Suzaku had killed with Lelouch's will forcing his hand._

_He didn't go to the other buildings either, to the rooms he'd grown up in, because the ghosts there were more frightening still, the child he'd thrown away one day in a horrible war when he was still too young to understand what he was doing._

_And the one he really couldn't face, or even dare to name, in the room that filled his memories and his nightmares; a ghost with wide eyes and blood streaming from its chest._

_There was only one building that Suzaku planned to enter, and he dreaded that more than enough._

_There was no one here, and no one to hide from. So Suzaku took a deep breath and headed for the closest building, where lay inside two altars; two altars he had allowed to lie cold for eight long years._

_Suzaku had a plan. He had thought about what he was going to say, what he needed to ask for, who he should ask. He had all night to be here, all night until the grey light of pre-dawn when he would sneak back out and away before he could be seen. So he would devote the next several hours to simply begging for help. Help to find him. Help to keep him alive. Help to bring him home. He would ask any spirit that might hear it, all the ancestors he had failed to properly honour, every god that had belonged to this place. He would stay on his knees all night long, and pray and pray and hope against all possible hope that it might do some good._

_And then, in the last hour before dawn, he would do the last thing, the thing he knew he had to do—he would allow for the possibility that it was too late. He would swallow the scream that had been lodged in his throat for two months and fight down the way his fingers wanted to close on his own neck every time he so much as thought about admitting...and he would ask. If he was dead. If Lelouch was gone from his beautiful, useless body and free to hear Suzaku asking, then he would ask him what to do. How to know. When to give up. When to draw the line and use the backup plan._

_When to let go._

_Just in case. Just in case he was too late, and Lulu was waiting in the insubstantial air to hear him._

_Suzaku didn't pause at the door—it didn't lock, he knew that, so he reached out one hand, ungloved, and slid open the screen. The air inside was almost unbreathable—the shock of it choked him as it came out the door, made him want to cough, stifling with the smell of sitting incense and maybe some dead foliage, by the smell of it, and a lot of dust. He didn't cough—he didn't make a sound. He gave the air a minute to clear—to clear enough to enter, at least—and took the time to confirm that no, there really hadn't been a single soul in here since the place had been abandoned. These weren't the only alters in the Kururugi Shrine. There were far bigger, more important places of offering across the other side, open to the air, where more people could gather, and one just inside the gate. This place, Suzaku had chosen specifically because it was inside. Here, traces of a visitor would likely have meant cameras or some other foul play—and here the small space, the thick air made it easy to see that there had been no one. Here, he could close the door, and kneel, and submit, and pray. Here, someone would have to open the door to come up behind him, and a screen sliding open he would definitely hear._

_When the doorway smelled a little less like stepping into a two-hundred year old basement (or opening a crypt, Suzaku tried not to think), he stepped up carefully into the room, and reluctantly shut out the breeze. It was dark—very dark—but he knew the room, and it was largely empty anyway. The tatami was caked in a good quarter-inch of dust, springing up in tiny fireworks as he padded across the floor. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it beneath his feet. Invisible motes shimmied in musty clouds as he sighed—it didn't bode well coming to pray in a shrine he'd let gather so much dust he could __feel it through his shoes, but...well, he'd known that already._

_He was here now. He was ready to do this...even the last part. He stopped before the smaller of the two altars and knelt to the ground, knelt in front of it with the dust sticking to his knees. It was definitely this one he should use, he thought; the little, personal one he'd seen his father praying at in the evenings when he wanted to be alone. Praying for a way to save Japan._

_Well...better late than never._

_He was going to save Japan, save whatever of it he hadn't destroyed._

_He was going to save everything._

_Even if Lelouch never came back to help him do it._

_The altar looked...dead. Suzaku hesitated, torn, suspended in the moment before action. Lighting the incense seemed like a bad idea when he didn't want anyone to know he was here. But really…he couldn't afford to do this by halves. If he was going to come begging to the gods, he'd better do it properly. Besides, if anyone could see a single wisp of incense smoke curling its way to the sky through the narrow grill that had completely failed to ventilate the room for more than eight years, they'd probably just whisper more about ghosts and devils; they already counted this place as cursed. And it wasn't like he was lighting the main altar—Suzaku was almost certain he shouldn't do that without a priest. There was no priest here, of course, and like everything about this situation, that wasn't ideal. But while he could probably have intimidated one into praying with him and keeping quiet about it, there was no guarantee the monk wouldn't send curses up for them instead._

_At least if it was only him, Suzaku knew he was begging with all his heart and soul. And sure, he hadn't done much to deserve the gods' help, but if there were points for wanting, if there was credit for really, really wanting what you asked for, and if there were points for being in the right for once, if the gods could see that they were the ones truly on the right side of this, that they were trying to fix things, that they would absolutely do good with any chance the gods could give them…maybe that might count for something. It had to be worth a try. If only because it was all Suzaku had left._

_The matches were still by the small altar, still dry, and Suzaku used them rather than his lighter. It seemed foolish to taint this place unnecessarily. The match struck hesitantly, loudly in the silence, echoing harshly off the walls. It still smelled of dust in here, and the match flame made everything hazy, flickering, too small to light far. Suzaku moved to the candles first, and they lit easily enough, though they didn't light up the room like the cloud of flames at the large altar would. The incense rods took more effort—years of damp air and no fire had made them less ready for use. But eventually smoke curled up, the thick tang of sandalwood, flickers of what was meant to be chrysanthemum but was probably some other, cheaper flower. The smoke made Suzaku feel ill. He knelt down anyway._

_He didn't have much to offer. He'd taken a few flowers from the garden at the consulate—only Britannia would build float ships with flower gardens for its princesses—all he could fit in his pockets. They were somewhat crushed now, but they were still bright, and fresh. They looked pretty in the candlelight. That would have to do. He added some coins from his wallet. Not the world's greatest offering. But fair enough. He vaguely remembered kneeling a few metres to his right, once, the main altar blazing before him, and someone whispering in his ear that all the money offerings were just to keep the priests alive and buy the incense—it was the heart that made the real offering._

_Well, here was his heart, and they could have it beating and bleeding on the altar if it'd make a difference. Here was his heart, desperate and broken and afraid and ready to give anything, and that'd have to be the flowers, the gods would have to see his heart there in the petals, shades of pink and red and white that looked alive in the way the lights moved. Flickering._

_Flickering._

_That was him. That was all he had to give._

_He could only pray they'd accept it, here in a dead shrine with no priest for a fallen supplicant who hadn't made an offering in more than eight years._

***

The flight from Schneizel's island—Suzaku was beginning to really hate small, forested islands—back to Pendragon was long. Lelouch was, predictably, infuriated by Suzaku's insistence that he stay in his arms, in his lap, against his chest, for the length of the flight, but where else was he supposed to put him? The Lancelot didn't have a passenger seat, and Lelouch was too weakened to hold himself upright, even if he hadn't been _blind_, and thus completely unable to grab onto things for support.

Suzaku would not allow his tortured, injured, exhausted, half-dead best friend and emperor and love of his ridiculous, cursed (completely insane) life to rattle around the floor of the cockpit because he was too stubborn and proud to just sit with Suzaku. And Lelouch couldn't exactly struggle effectively and the clone, it seemed, didn't get involved in fights (Suzaku was rapidly beginning to question how he could have thought the thing capable of attacking _anyone_) so Suzaku, unsurprisingly, got his way. This made Lelouch more furious still, and so Lelouch was not talking to him. The clone didn't seem capable of holding a conversation, and Suzaku didn't want to talk to it anyway, but it sat curled up behind the pilot's seat and murmured names, his, and Lelouch's, and others, and again and again, "we're free. We're free, Lelouch." until Lelouch raised his head slightly from where he had given up fighting and fallen against Suzaku's chest and murmured "yes. We are. You did well. Very well." And it was all he said all flight. Suzaku could feel himself slowly going mad.

It was just on daybreak when they entered the airspace of Pendragon, Suzaku murmuring a tired password over the radio to air control. Minutes later they were touching down in the palace grounds. At some point, some hours ago, Lelouch had fallen asleep in Suzaku's arms, head heavy on his shoulder, breathing softly, deeply against his neck. It was tempting to use the chance to check him properly for injuries, but Suzaku hadn't risked waking him. Besides, he was probably best off focusing on flying; it would be just their luck if the remainder of the Black Knights chose this moment to attack while the Albion was alone.

Suzaku allowed himself half a second before he looked out at the landing pad to hope that C.C. and Jeremiah might not have noticed them coming in. Or been busy. Or out of the country. They weren't really serious hopes. C.C. and Jeremiah didn't get more than ten metres from Lelouch if they could help it, and they'd been away from him for as long as Suzaku had. They looked equally bizarre at the Lancelot's feet, two not-quite-humans no longer trying to appear normal. Suzaku stopped himself glancing reflexively back at the clone. Lelouch sure had a way of picking them.

He held the sleeping emperor carefully steady as he shifted to better see behind him. "Clone?"

Suzaku was relieved when the thing answered rather than whimpering. "What should I do, master?"

And he could ignore that. He just had to pretend this was any other prisoner. "You're going to put my cloak on to cover your clothes, and then put yours over your head. Then you're going to follow me, and stay covered up. Don't say a word. Ignore the other people."

"Alright."

That sounded a lot more like Lelouch, if subservient in a way Lelouch would never be. Suzaku stared firmly at the one in his arms to remind himself of the truth. He considered for a whole several seconds waking his prince—there'd be typical Lulu wrath if he ever realised Suzaku had _humiliated_ him by carrying him from the Lancelot—before deciding he'd rather just kill C.C. (or do his best, at least) if she tried to say anything. He kept one arm firmly around Lelouch as he fished his enormous cloak out from by his seat. "Clone."

The clone took the cloak almost eagerly when Suzaku held it out, shedding its own—identical to Lelouch's—before pulling Suzaku's close around its body. Suzaku peered as best he could over the back of the seat. The familiar white outfit was almost invisible. Jeremiah would assume the cloak over the thing's head was Lelouch's, if Suzaku just left Lelouch's here in the cockpit. And C.C....wouldn't be told anything by the clone's clothing, at least. "Now cover your head. I'll lead you out."

The clone only nodded this time—thank the gods—and pulled the white cloak obediently over its head. _Lelouch would never let his guard down that way_—Suzaku couldn't help but think, and he scowled. The thing wasn't Lelouch. To compare them was ridiculous.

He pulled his deeply sleeping cargo closer to his body, and switched the button on the transmitter. The last thing he needed was Jeremiah calling out as soon as he opened the hatch and waking Lelouch. "Stay quiet. I've got him, but he's sleeping."

Suzaku saw the way Jeremiah startled just slightly at the sudden voice—C.C. seemed unsurprised—then nodded dutifully, face torn between relief and anguish. C.C. glared. Suzaku ignored her.

"I have a prisoner on board. Lelouch has asked me to keep the prisoner's identity hidden from you for now. I will make arrangements concerning him."

So it wasn't strictly speaking true, but surely Lelouch would agree with him.

C.C., unsurprisingly, wasn't buying it. Given that the clone had geass, there was very little hope anyway. Suzaku suppressed a groan as her frown deepened. "Lelouch has never hidden anything from me." Pause. "Your prisoner has geass."

Well, that was quick. "Yes."

The frown creased further. "He…Lelouch?"

Suzaku really, really didn't want to deal with this tonight. He opened the hatch. He may have sounded just a little hostile. "I'd prefer that Lelouch discussed it with you when he wakes up. Please don't interfere."

Her voice was always cold and harsh for him. "Aren't you the one interfering, Kururugi?"

Suzaku checked Lelouch's position resting against him one more time before easing to his feet. The transmitter crackled quietly. "I am following Lelouch's orders."

And thank the gods, that made Jeremiah step in. The sanctimonious expression on his face always disturbed Suzaku a little, his voice pompous and self-satisfied. "Then no one should interfere. I'm sure Master Lelouch will explain the situation to you when he is ready, woman."

C.C. sneered deliberately as Suzaku climbed slowly out of the Albion's cockpit, but she could see now that Lelouch was indeed asleep and if nothing else, she did seem to genuinely care for his wellbeing. Suzaku could hear her reluctance, and the mocking she didn't try to hide. "I suppose you can put him to bed?"

"Of course." Suzaku didn't much care—he mostly thought it amusing when she was jealous. Or he tried to just be amused, anyway.

He switched the transmitter off before turning to the remaining occupant of the flight space. "Clone. Climb out." Suzaku balanced on the ledge, watched while the clone felt its way out, and fervently wished the witch would just leave. He could feel the eyes on his back. He pressed the button in again—"You can both go back to bed. Lelouch is fine. I can handle both him and the prisoner."

Jeremiah hesitated only a moment before bowing hastily. "Yes, my lord."

C.C. didn't move until the Orange was standing right in front of her, staring expectantly. She stepped around him to stare once more at Lelouch—luck for once that his face was hidden in Suzaku's shoulder, she wouldn't see the back of the blindfold the way it was hidden in his hair—before turning tail. "I'll be by tomorrow morning to see what you're hiding."

The clone was having difficulty feeling its way over the edge, and Suzaku didn't offer to help. "Fine."

He kept his eyes on her instead of the clone until she'd stalked out. Jeremiah followed with another shallow bow. Suzaku didn't trust either of them, and he didn't tell the clone to remove the cloak.

Almost a minute later, the creature had managed to get one foot over onto the ledge. Suzaku really, really didn't want to touch it, and he didn't want it to touch Lelouch in his arms even more. But he didn't want it to tumble off the edge of the Albion and down to the ground either. He glanced around the space once more—Lelouch's two accomplices really did seem to have disappeared—before speaking. "Can you see through that cloak?"

The clone paused in its slow progress over the edge. "Yes."

And Suzaku hated to read its voice because he shouldn't be able to read the tone of a stranger this well, but the thing was obviously lying. And _not_ because it sounded exactly how Lelouch did when he lied. "Can you see well enough not to fall?"

Pause. No then. "Yes."

Suzaku saw its fingers tighten around the seat before it lifted the second foot out of the cockpit.

Now he just had to get it to the ground. "Are you going to fall if you try to climb down with your eyes covered?"

The pause was longer this time. "You could help me."

Or not. The mix of huffy Lelouch annoyance and half-hearted fear and...something like guilt, but beneath something else altogether...left Suzaku clueless. No one except Lelouch, however, was allowed to speak to him that way, and this was not Lelouch.

Suzaku glared and pressed his lips together before he could say anything he regretted. He didn't want to risk uncovering its face. And it was probably unreasonable to expect it to find the descent by itself without sight. Suzaku reluctantly shifted his grip on Lelouch until his hands were free. Lelouch barely weighed anything, despite his height—he was skin and bones, and fine bones at that. He was nothing cradled against Suzaku's body, supported in the crooks of his elbows, head rested carefully against his shoulder. Suzaku held his breath as he shuffled sideways, reached out—reminded himself he was an elite knight with responsibility for executing Zero Requiem—and took the clone's shoulders. It drew in a sharp breath, then sighed it out, and Suzaku ground his teeth. "Just move sideways. The stairs are just here."

The clone bowed its head, breathing slowly, heavily. Suzaku wondered whether this made up for letting Lelouch get kidnapped. "Thank you, ma—."

It was two shuffled steps to the spot, then a moment for balance, a second to check his hold on both apparent-emperors before stepping down onto the first step—more a rung, the descent was really more a ladder—and letting his hands slide down the not-Lelouch's back as he went down. Long enough to stop him snapping or yelling at the thing here where someone could hear it. "Just call me—you don't need to call me anything. I'm climbing down now. Wait a second and I'll show you the first step."

Another rung down, and another, step by step. It was a long time since anything had pushed Suzaku's balance, but this took all his concentration, holding Lelouch and keeping his hands on the unstable prisoner at the same time. Three more rungs and he was low enough that his hands were behind its knees. He stopped and tightened his grip, moving both hands to one leg. "Let me bring your foot down. Hold on to something."

The clone nodded, or it looked like that from Suzaku's obscured position below, and then, too suddenly, the whole leg he held was limp. Suzaku held a little tighter, and refused to be unnerved. No normal person could could let out tension so simply on command. Muscles just didn't relax that way—did they? The thing was unnatural. Suzaku liked it less every second.

But it was convenient for now, and Suzaku reminded himself that that was all that mattered. He'd had to _fight _standing on here before, and he'd climbed it a thousand times, so it was simple to wedge his feet firmly in place, lean forward enough to counter Lelouch's minimal weight against his chest. He bent the clone's knee with both hands, and then only one, when it became clear only one was needed. The leg came easily away from the ledge; the clone held itself in place without trouble and followed the pressure of Suzaku's fingers what felt like effortlessly. It really was weird—_nothing_, Suzaku knew, should be able to trust someone's touch that easily, not off balance, high above the ground.

Maybe it shouldn't be surprising, though; he already knew the thing wasn't human. Perhaps it was some kind of bioengineered AI? That raised a whole new set of problems—he would have to make sure the clone saw and heard nothing Schneizel didn't already know until it had gone through a full set of x-rays. Recording devices under the skin—or walking, talking ones in clever disguises—would not be beyond Schneizel in any way. Suzaku squeezed Lelouch a little more tightly against his chest, and just—just brushed his lips against sweat-damp black hair, just to feel him there. Nothing more.

The clone was still perfectly relaxed. Suzaku lowered its foot carefully until it made contact with the first rung, the creature not returning its weight there until Suzaku had drawn back his hands. This wasn't all that complicated. Suzaku's head felt only half there, and gathering his wits felt like fighting thermal columns in the sky on low power. Maybe he hadn't slept enough. Maybe he really was going into shock. Maybe things like this just _didn't_ happen. The clone was still half-way between rungs, and Suzaku wasn't sure who he was more annoyed at—it or himself or Lelouch for making him bring it. He answered himself a firm 'it' before clearing his throat. "Can you feel your way down now?"

The clone lifted its other foot and stepped steadily down to level on the first rung. "Yes, m—"...it fell silent.

Suzaku tried to be grateful for small blessings. "Well, uh, climb down then. "

The clone didn't reply, and didn't question the cover over its head, stopping most of its sight, just moved easily, far more easily than Lelouch could have blind—that word that made Suzaku shudder and look anywhere but Lulu's face. Suzaku descended quickly now that his hands were free, Lelouch balanced easily against his body, and the clone wasn't far behind him. A murmured voice command into his transmitter and the hatch of the Albion slid shut as he reached the ground. Suzaku listened until he heard it lock.

Lelouch stirred in his arms, almost mumbled something, and stilled again as Suzaku held his breath.

The clone stepped forward from the base of the ladder.

"He has nightmares sometimes."

Suzaku wanted to ask. He really, really wanted to ask. But the clone had no right to speak of Lelouch. The clone only knew anything of Lelouch because Schneizel had—who knew what Schneizel had done, but at the very least he'd kept Lelouch locked up on that island for ten weeks, and hurt him, and clearly made him put up with his ridiculous creation, if the thing said it had watched Lelouch sleep. Suzaku took a deep breath and compromised. "I'll ask you about that later. Right now, I need to get Lelouch to bed. Can you see enough to follow me?"

No hesitation this time. "Yes."

Suzaku didn't wait to start walking—the thing would follow. He didn't slow down for it, either. It had already demonstrated that it was more fit than Lulu. "Will you stay where I put you if I find you a room?"

The clone's pace didn't falter, but its voice had that note of…pitiful, pathetic… need?...that made Suzaku ill. "Whatever you wish, master."

Suzaku almost growled. "I said—"

"I'm sorry." The apology was almost a whisper, rushed and trembling, and it made Suzaku feel unpleasantly…mean. This was absurd.

Suzaku tried to push what was probably manipulative sympathy-garnering on the part of the _thing_ out of his head and think practically. As much as he hated the idea, he should probably give the clone the room next to his—it was empty, like all the rooms around his and Lulu's, the clone really didn't seem like a threat (and if it was, Suzaku doubted it could get past him), and if it was close he could keep an eye on it. That, and C.C. would be less likely to find it. He would have to be firm with it, make sure it wouldn't leave the room. He could lock it in, but if it was anything like as smart as Lulu—something he didn't believe for a minute, but it had to be reasonably devious for Lelouch to say it was close—then it would be perfectly capable of getting past a normal locked door. So he would be firm with it. Order it to stay still. Make sure it had everything it might need, so it would have no _reason_ to leave. And put it in that room, yes, because it had Lelouch's full security lock, rather than the standard security of the rest of the palace rooms, and that would keep the thing in, surely.

But he had to put Lelouch in bed first. He still had no idea what injuries might be beneath the almost clean white clothes, and whatever was there, lying flat on a mattress would be better for Lelouch than being curled up in Suzaku's arms like this.

The clone's footsteps were steady behind him, matching his pace easily. Turn left, turn right, left and left again back the direction they'd come down a different corridor and this was his and Lulu's wing, where only three of the thirty-five suites were occupied, and one was as far away from theirs as Suzaku could convince Lelouch to force on C.C. The carpet here was thick and it muffled footsteps—stupid, Suzaku thought, security-wise—but he could still feel the clone behind him, keeping an exact distance, a too-close metre from Suzaku's back. Lelouch looked more drawn, more ill in the low light of these corridors. The grey of the walls tinted his skin. It made Suzaku nervous. He would go to Lelouch's room first, and the clone would just have to wait in the lounge while he made sure Lulu was settled. That would be fine. Frustrating, yes, generally objectionable as the idea of the thing anywhere near Lelouch's rooms should be, but not actually problematic. It couldn't do anything if Suzaku stayed firmly between it and Lelouch. It couldn't plant anything in the room when Suzaku had already confirmed that it carried nothing.

Another right, and it felt all wrong to bring the clone here, into their space, where only C.C. was allowed to intrude—and, well, as much as Suzaku couldn't stand her, she wasn't all _that _bad, when she wasn't being deliberately antagonistic. Not compared to this thing.

Their rooms, doors across from each other on this hall, were really the only place Suzaku and Lelouch had lives of their own anymore. They had given everything else to the world a long time ago. Suzaku had spent much of the last month sitting inside the door on the left, the door he stopped at, sitting and trying to think of anything he hadn't thought of, or just looking at things, Lelouch's things, or lying on top of Lelouch's blankets and trying to sleep 'cause he knew that staying awake would only make him less alert and less likely to figure out where Lelouch had gone. He hadn't stopped to erase his presence from the room when he'd gotten the call, but he doubted Lelouch would care. He'd shake his head and smile that condescending smile that Suzaku had once let annoy him…until he'd realised it was the closest Lelouch got to letting down his guard and admitting he liked most things about Suzaku, including his fixations and his fussing and that horrible character flaw of being rather more honest than his prince. Then, anyone was more honest than Lelouch, and it probably wasn't hard not to 'fuss' when you spent most of the time completely oblivious to other people's emotions.

Suzaku typed in the 15 digit door code (which was recorded nowhere and had different beginning, middle and ending digits dependent on time of day, day of the week and month of the year, but not numerically linked to any of those factors) and went in with barely a thought. Lelouch had used the same stupid sets of rotating codes since he was a child, using them only on the most necessarily secure places (their rooms here, the other two in this hall, Nunnally's bedroom at Ashford) so that no one would have a chance to experiment or practice or learn to unlock them. Suzaku spoke all Lelouch's codes as easily as Japanese. The clone, cloak still over its head, followed in silence, and Suzaku shut the door firmly behind them. The chances of C.C. spying were still reasonably high. He really did not have the energy to argue with her about the clone tonight—this morning, since the sun would be above the horizon by now outside.

Said clone was standing perfectly still just inside the doorway. It made no move to restore its sight. Well, it could follow instructions, at least. Unlike Lelouch. Suzaku held back a groan. "You can take the cloak off your head."

The clone did so immediately, and Suzaku was ready to walk right past it into Lelouch's room and throw back an order to stay put, but the expression spreading across its face stopped him. Wide, wide eyes, and the smallest, most frighteningly genuine smile.

Suzaku tried his hardest not to scowl. "What?"

The clone turned to him immediately, but the smile didn't fade. "This is…home."

Suzaku rested his hands on Lelouch's arm so he wouldn't clench his fists. "This is Lelouch's home. Not yours." Never yours. Calm. Don't snap. Suzaku focused his eyes on the part of Lelouch's face still intact, thin lips parting and closing again just slightly with the exhale of breath. Calm. Rational. This wasn't hard. "I am going to put Lelouch to bed." Fine. Straightforward. "Wait here, and I'll come back and find you rooms for however long Lelouch wants to keep you here."

Suzaku looked away as the smile fell, and reminded himself that the clone didn't deserve to be happy. He was almost at the door to Lelouch's bedroom when the thing surprised him again. "I _am_ Lelouch."

Crashing. Crashing in his head, his ears, his hands, and these were feelings he couldn't have anymore, the desperate desire to punish that he'd locked away behind older, nobler thoughts when he'd come back to Lelouch, but—

_Remember you're holding Lulu_. Suzaku made himself stop, breathe deeply, and focus on the sleeping body in his arms instead of the fury in his chest. "No, you are not. This is Lelouch. You are a fake."

The clone's voice faltered, but it didn't stop. "Not a fake. Just a copy."

_Remember. You're holding. Lelouch._

Suzaku opened Lelouch's bedroom door, stepped through, shut it, and left the foul creation of Schneizel's behind.

Lelouch's room was exactly as Suzaku had left it. The blankets were slightly creased, but not folded down—Suzaku couldn't bear to lie under the covers with Lelouch missing and suffering who knew what any more than he could bear to sleep in his own room with this one empty. He still didn't know what Lelouch had suffered in the past two and a half months, how much of what he'd been trying not to think might be true. But Lelouch was right here, now. Lelouch's forehead was pressing into Suzaku's neck, his weight against Suzaku's chest, his breath coming slow and steady on Suzaku's shoulder. Suzaku could feel the movement of air through the thin fabric of his pilot suit. Lelouch was right here, close, safe in his arms, and though he wasn't untouched, he was alive. Everything had worked out alright.

Suzaku knelt so that he could pull back the sheets without shifting Lulu in his arms. Then he straightened again, and lay the body—alive and almost whole and peacefully sleeping—down gently, painstakingly, trying his best to support his head as he lifted Lelouch away from his chest. The hat fell off onto the pillows. Lelouch shifted a little and mumbled something incoherent as his back touched the sheets, and Suzaku froze. But he didn't move again, just breathed deeply, slowly, and stayed silent. Suzaku hoped that meant he had fallen into deep sleep, free from whatever nightmares undoubtedly lingered.

He waited a whole minute of silence before letting go of Lelouch and pulling up the blankets. Lelouch stayed unconscious as Suzaku pulled the covers close around his chin. He looked so peaceful like this, free from the restless motion and unsettling sounds that had punctuated his sleep on the flight home. It was so easy to pretend that the blindfold was only for the light, that Lulu's eyes were softly closed behind it, ready to wake and glare and spark and burn with morning.

Suzaku took one deep breath to compose himself, sitting on the edge of the bed. Slowly, carefully, he leaned down and pressed his lips just above the blindfold, relaxing despite himself when Lelouch didn't stir. "I'll be back soon," he murmured, in case some part of Lulu's mind was still listening. It wasn't easy to stand up then—his whole heart and body cried out against leaving his prince. But he was sleeping, sleeping peacefully, and he seemed to be okay for now. Suzaku would probably only wake him fussing. And nothing could happen to him here in the fifteen minutes, less, that it would take to deposit the clone across the hall. Then he would come back and lay down by Lelouch's side and watch him all night long, and make sure himself that the nightmares didn't return and no one woke him and everything was fine. He could keep him warm. He could keep him safe. He could look after him completely, even if he'd failed miserably before.

Lelouch took a slightly deeper breath, a break in the steady rhythm, and Suzaku held his…but Lulu's breathing only slowed a little further, sinking further into rest. He'd be asleep for a good long while now. He was exhausted. Suzaku sighed and made himself press his feet into the floor. The bed barely moved as he raised himself inch by inch. "I'll only be a minute, Lulu…" he murmured again, knowing it was more to himself than anyone else. And then he walked backward to the door, eyes fixed on Lelouch until he opened it, felt the clone staring, and slipped through quickly before its gaze could disturb his prince's sleep.

For a moment, Suzaku's hand hovered on the doorknob. Leaving Lelouch alone felt a lot like cursing himself to eternal damnation or cutting off several limbs or something similarly painful and stupid. The last time he had left Lelouch alone, he' d been abducted, blinded, tortured, and then, just because that clearly wasn't enough, _cloned_ to top it off. It was that that turned him around, though he hated to turn away from Lelouch's door. He could feel the clone staring at his back, now the door to Lelouch was shut. And he didn't like it one bit.

"Don't say anything." He could see the clone's confusion at that, tiredness, and hurt that barely bothered him, really; he'd had plenty of far more harsh things on the tip of his tongue. The thing should be grateful. "Follow me. Immediately."

The clone was already following by the time he said 'immediately', but it reinforced something, Suzaku thought. Reinforced that the thing was a prisoner here, not a guest. An enemy prisoner. Not a relative of Lelouch's (though that hardly meant anything good), or a friend, and certainly not any part of him or anything like him. The thing was Schneizel's. One of his creations. It was definitely an enemy. The reminder that an enemy was standing in Lelouch's lounge staring at his bedroom door while the emperor slept, almost unconscious, alone inside, was more than enough to move Suzaku. The clone followed close, too close, as Suzaku crossed to the door, and stood so close as he opened it that Suzaku almost had to back into the thing to swing the door toward him.

"Follow me," he murmured again as he managed to get the door open by pressing himself into the wall, and that was unnecessary too. Clone-Lelouch—a term that implied no similarity whatsoever to Lelouch himself—was more obedient than anything or anyone he'd ever seen. It disturbed Suzaku—it made him uneasy. It had to have an ulterior motive; it was a clone of Lelouch, after all.

Suzaku pretended he hadn't just thought that.

Across the hall, Suzaku immediately wished he'd left the clone in Lelouch's room while he unlocked this one. It felt conspicuous, standing here with it in the corridor. But it looked just like Lelouch. There was no way anyone could pick anything. Well, except for—Suzaku _didn't_ groan—C.C.. But she already…the last of the fifteen numbers on the 9 x 9 code panel, and the door clicked unlocked. Suzaku didn't ask the clone to follow him in this time—no need to look suspicious if C.C. or Jeremiah or anyone else _was_ watching—and it entered behind him anyway. Suzaku was no longer surprised. He closed the entryway with a final paranoid glance up and down the corridor. The clone stood neatly a pace and a half behind him. Suzaku took a deep breath for patience. "You can stop following me now."

The clone didn't say anything, but it took a half step back, and that was all the acknowledgement Suzaku needed or wanted. "You'll be staying in this room. Understand that I am right next door, and I will know if you are up to anything."

The clone nodded quietly, or nodded as best it could while not looking up from its feet. "Yes, master."

Suzaku clenched one fist and forced his voice even. "You can't call me that. You look a lot like Lelouch, and if anyone heard you speaking that way to me—"

"I am Lelouch."

After several long, violent moments of deliberation, Suzaku chose to ignore the interruption. Think of Lelouch. "Do you have a name?" And, to quickly amend, "Of your own? That isn't Lelouch's?"

The clone slowly shook its head. "I am Lelouch. You can call me what you like, though, master."

Suzaku wondered only half-jokingly whether Lelouch would mind him giving the clone insulting nicknames. Probably. He had no idea, really—had no idea what Lelouch was doing bringing the thing here. _C.C. would know_, a voice in his mind whispered, but that was rubbish, he was sure. He knew Lelouch at least as well as C.C. did, and she would understand no better than he did what was going on. Lelouch didn't want the thing harmed, that much he knew, and surely that was all he needed to know for now. No nicknames, then. Suzaku reminded himself—internally—that he was the Knight of Zero. He didn't get riled up by lowly prisoners and provoked into childish name-calling, or half-serious thoughts of it.

And Lelouch was waiting across the hall, asleep in bed, alone and unprotected.

Suzaku did not have time to waste here with idiocy.

"Are you listening to me, clone?"

Barely a beat. "Of course…Suzaku?"

And it was Lelouch saying his name, tentative and soft and unsure, more helpless than he'd ever been ill or injured or nine years old. It was Lelouch's voice, but not Lelouch, and Suzaku felt his skin crawl. "No. If you...you may call me Lord Kururugi." Even though he hated that name, hated it with every bit of energy he possessed.

The clone nodded enthusiastically, far more so than was warranted. "Yes, Lord Kururugi."

Suzaku shook his head and tried to pretend he was having this conversation with someone—thing—else, and tried to pretend he didn't hear the title, and tried to pretend this was all some kind of horrible dream...but would that mean Lelouch wasn't back either?

Why was he thinking about this?

Suzaku breathed in, and out, and focused. "Well, this is your room. For now. You are under arrest here, you are not a guest, and you will not leave this room unless you are with me...or with Lelouch," because Suzaku didn't really have an option on that count, "do you understand?"

The clone nodded again, still with that unreasonable fervour. "Yes, Lord Kururugi."

Suzaku was beginning to prefer 'master'—at least the clone hadn't seemed so taken with it.

He took two of the three steps required to get back out the door. "See this panel here?"

The clone started nodding again, and Suzaku cut it off before it could chorus another 'yes'. "This button here—" he pointed clearly as he could to the top left button, his call button in these inner rooms "—the one in the top left—" the clone nodded eagerly to go on "—this button is a panic button, and it calls me. You are not to press any of the other buttons. If you press the top left button, I will come in here assuming you're being murdered. If you are not being murdered, I will make you wish you were. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

The clone seemed to hesitate a moment, which was unusual enough—it was disturbing how quickly he'd become used to unquestioning obedience from the creature. "I am intelligent, Lord Kururugi. I understand most things."

And _that_ was just unnerving.

Suzaku wasn't sure whether it was insubordinate (no, obviously) or disrespectful (maybe) or inappropriate (just its _being_ here was inappropriate) or just sounded too like Lelouch for him to allow it. Take out the ridiculous name, heighten the suppressed sarcasm—because it _was_ there—just a little...Suzaku glared, just for good measure. "Fine, then. Stay here. Use that button if you're in trouble. Don't if you're not. Don't leave. Don't talk to anyone. Lelouch will see you when he so wishes. Stay quiet, don't make it obvious you're here, and don't make me wish you weren't any more than I already do. A doctor will see you tomorrow."

Either the clone had picked up on his discomfort or it had grown tired of parroting—it stayed blissfully silent, crisply nodding its agreement. Suzaku resisted the impulse to nod back. Enemy experiments didn't deserve courtesy. "Goodnight, then."

And Suzaku could have sworn the thing had the gall to whisper "Goodnight, Suzaku," under its breath. But he couldn't be sure. And Lelouch was across the hall. So Suzaku turned around, and stepped out, and shut and locked the door behind him. It would take one talented clone to break out of that room, and there was no way the foul thing really had Lelouch's mind (it was _not_ possible). That job was done. Which meant...

Suzaku opened the door to Lelouch's suite very, very quietly. He paused before the bedroom door, just to listen—and there was Lelouch's breathing, quiet and even, back where it belonged. It was probably silly how that made the breath come easier to his own lungs, but it did. No more silence. No more space where Lelouch was not. He opened the door inch by inch just wide enough for him to slip through, then closed it equally slowly, one eye on the slow rise and fall of the lump beneath the blankets. Lelouch was deeply, silently asleep.

Suzaku breathed.

Lelouch didn't stir.

Suzaku closed his eyes, and crossed to the bed by memory. Would Lelouch know when he woke that Suzaku had been here every night since he'd gone? It was the kind of thing Lelouch picked up on—Lelouch picked up on everything. He probably wouldn't mention it—it was also the kind of thing that embarrassed the almighty emperor.

For his own part, Suzaku thought he was probably beyond embarrassment.

Lelouch was back. Lelouch was here.

Lelouch was _safe_. With him.

His knees touched the blankets at the exact moment he expected them to, eyes still shut, and he could have curled up by Lelouch's side with his eyes closed too—he was so used to this bed being empty that Lelouch's body heat was like the image of the sleeping prince floating in his head—but he opened them, just to be careful.

He looked just the same. Lelouch always slept the same way when he slept alone—curled slightly on his side, arms huddled close, legs bent enough that he didn't look quite so absurdly long until you looked for it. It was the only time his body truly relaxed, when he was deeply asleep, exhausted, and it was beautiful, always, always, lips quiet, untouched by that bitterness and that pain, eyes softly shut...and they could be. And they still could be.

It was so, so easy to imagine that peace, sleeping behind the black cloth swathing his head.

Gone.

Suzaku bit the inside of his lip hard, and breathed, and looked away. He would not get into bed tense, and he would not tense lying there next to Lelouch and wake him. And so he ran his eyes over those lips instead, lips that tumbled magic words that made no sense and kissed like another world and another, better time and a whole new universe of no pain, down over Lelouch's sharp jaw, long neck...bruised.

Suzaku was breathing too fast, far too fast, and he held his breath. No.

No.

He bit the inside of his lip again, and the tears pricked his eyes anyway.

It was so hard to think any words but 'no'...

So he sat down instead, felt the warmth that Lelouch had lent to the blankets seep into his legs, felt the mattress move with his breathing. In and out.

In and out.

Here.

Suzaku stood again, long enough to peel back the sheets. Lelouch never admitted that he slept better with Suzaku by his side, but Suzaku never admitted that he slept better that way either. He pulled the covers back over himself easily, and it was warm, too warm—did Lelouch have a fever? But no. No, this was...normal. He'd slept the past 72 nights either in his Knightmare or on top of these blankets, barely crinkled under his weight. He hadn't been under a blanket in months, and no one but Lelouch was allowed this close, and Lelouch had been...elsewhere. Not here with him. Not safe, and definitely not well.

Suzaku swore quietly, muscles carefully relaxed, that if the clone was responsible for that bruising on Lelouch's neck (however unlikely that admittedly seemed), or for any other injury, he'd make the cursed thing pay ten times over, Lelouch's wishes be damned.

But for now...

He didn't touch Lelouch—there were no more bad injuries, simple observation told Suzaku that, but it was impossible to know where else he might be bruised or otherwise sensitive. Instead, he lay half an inch from the sleeping prince, almost touching, curled around the long line of his back; puzzle pieces, cursive letters, something terribly poetic that Lelouch would know and Suzaku wouldn't that just worked even though it had never really made much sense. It was warm. It was good.

A minute and a half later, breathing as shallowly as he could against the back of Lelouch's neck and watching ghost trails of black hair move like feathers and a distant dream on his skin, he realised Lelouch's back couldn't be that sensitive—he'd carried him all the way here. And he'd wake up before Lelouch did—he always woke up before Lelouch did. Still...

Suzaku shifted one hand, one inch—half an inch—and rested one palm across the broad of Lelouch's back. Of course, no part of Lelouch's back was all that broad, and Suzaku's fingers were very long. It fit. It fit...right.

And it _was_ warm here, so warm, and Lelouch was so fragile, so...well, skinny...that Suzaku could feel his heartbeat pulsing through his back, pulsing in Suzaku's fingers, pumping Suzaku's blood, because Suzaku hadn't had his own heart in years.

Lelouch breathed in, and his back shifted accordingly, and Suzaku breathed in, and shifted with it, and they both breathed out, and their heartbeats slowly aligned. And it was warm here, and it was good, and Suzaku hadn't felt a human touch—even a sleeping, one-sided human touch—like this in more than two months, and Lelouch wasn't dead; he wasn't well, but he wasn't dead, and it was warm, so warm...

And Suzaku was asleep, curled around Lelouch like a shell (_to protect you, always_), breathing together, safe and warm.

***

Across the hall, the clone was dreaming. This in itself was testament to the creature's mental fortitude; it was severely discomfited—where 'discomfort' is equal to rather exceptional physical and emotional pain—and felt absolutely nothing like sleeping. Excepting serious threats to those about whom he cared, however, Lelouch was above all else supremely logical. Sleep was required for health and alertness, and if this was the way that things were, then he needed to be awake and alert in the morning to try to overcome the considerable obstacle that was Suzaku's—not hatred, he couldn't—but... hatred.

And so the clone had checked the room for a change of clothes and found none. He had hung his cloak and coat in the wardrobe, placed his hat carefully on the nightstand, removed his shoes and climbed into bed in his shirt and pants—it would be impractical to sleep naked when there was every chance he might be awoken unexpectedly, if he was indeed being treated as hostile. The fabric was soft, at least, which helped a little when his mind wandered and his bones ached and his skin burned more fiercely than usual.

And so by pure force of will, something that Lelouch possessed in great plenty, he had fallen asleep, curled on one side, arms huddled close, legs bent up just enough that he didn't look quite so absurdly tall. His body wasn't relaxed—his body wasn't capable of relaxing. His brain, though brilliant, was not exactly Lelouch's, and nor was his body, and relaxation was not something in the spectrum of possibility for either right now. But he was sleeping. And sleeping, Lelouch's clone had begun to dream.

_There was sun streaming through the sheer curtains, thick with the gold of late afternoon—heavier red velvet drapes waited to be pulled, but the warmth felt good on bare skin and cooling sweat._

The clone nearly always dreamed about roughly the same things.

_They weren't sweaty from sex—it had been less than that, a part of this incident but not a part of this dream. This was usual, dreaming in bytes, in moments, single memories __of_ _this__._ _They—Lelouch—were usually on the other side of their bed, but today they were on the window side because they'd been cold, bare-skinned, and hadn't wanted to retreat under the blankets yet lest sleep take its claim, and so Suzaku had lazily shaken his head and smiled and rolled them over to the other side of the bed where the sun would shine on their back._

_The sun was always a beautiful pink-gold over Ashford Academy—over the whole Tokyo Settlement—in the late afternoon, and always warm, even in winter._

_Suzaku's skin was bronzed and healthy-looking and glowing in the soft light, and they—Lelouch—shifted their head enough to brush their lips against his shoulder. Suzaku smiled, chuckled quietly, barely a breath, pressed his palm up the centre of Lelouch's back to comb long, firm fingers through mussed hair and trail them back down._

_They were already sans clothing—they had already gotten off once this afternoon. Tumbling in the door from—where?—somewhere unrelated, somewhere that didn't matter enough to dream about, to bother thinking of—one of those heated encounters that came in that time from stupid games and joking arguments and moments of meeting gazes in the late afternoon sun. Lips that came together like they'd done a hundred times in weeks, just-too-hard pressures of finger-pads on necks and heads and hands and wrists, brushing noses and fluttering eyelids and Lelouch's hair always getting in the way. _

_Their_ _hair._

The clone shivered in its sleep, fingers twitching, muscles slowly relaxing, releasing—letting go. Beneath starched sheets, wrapped in imperial gold and white, its limbs untensed, knees unlocked, joints shifted into a more natural position for sleep. The clone's body relaxed as pain dissipated. Lelouch—Lelouch's clone—sighed happily, and sank into a deeper rest.

_From frantic kissing—Suzaku not walking away, Suzaku not turning around, Suzaku holding on, holding on tight and the strength of his arms—to a rapidly acquired state of nudity, Lelouch fumbling buttons and Suzaku sliding fingers down his spine to pull him closer—a gasp of breath—before hooking the waistband of his trousers...and flashes, flashes of tangled sheets and tangled limbs and breathless gasping into each others' mouths and whispered words and parts of words and hands bringing each other off to the same rhythm, starting fast and getting faster, thrusting into each other's grips and bodies and warmths and breaths and Suzaku holding out as best he can to come just a moment before Lelouch, chins bumping as their heads fall back, eyes squeezed shut, golden half-set sunlight dancing in the liquid smearing their hands and their stomachs and Lelouch's sheets. _

_And they breathe down together, and Suzaku laughs about their rushing, and Lelouch says something smart (because they are always smart, Lelouch and his double, even if Suzaku seems to have forgotten that in the present), and they're there together, bare, evening air cooling on sweat and semen, and then it's back to Lelouch—them—shivering, and it's too early for sleep, so Suzaku rolls them over to where the sun shines warm on their back._

_And __here_ _the dream begins in earnest._

The pain is gone, and the aching, and the burning, and the need. The clone is sleeping—Lelouch is sleeping—and with these dreams filling his mind—with these memories in his dreams—the clone is Lelouch in everything but the unusual, exceptional sense of relief and the lingering, sleeping awareness that the pain will inevitably return.

_There is sun streaming through the sheer curtains—muslin with fine threads in squares and squares of sunny white. Sayoko always tucks the curtains up to let more light in, except for the ones jammed behind the bed. Suzaku always lets them down again, just the light ones so the sun is diffuse and sight is shielded, and he doesn't say anything, but Lelouch knows the uncovered windows make him nervous, and doesn't say anything either. Their back is warm with the light, and their head is heavy on Suzaku's shoulder, body not curled against him but sprawled across one half of him—Suzaku on his back and Lelouch on his stomach, unwieldy and oddly positioned as always post-orgasm, one arm settled on Suzaku's chest. It is supremely comfortable—__Suzaku __is extremely comfortable to lie on—_

—_and so the stream of thought, tense thought, alertness, worry, discomfort running through their head is of little concern to the clone, because this is perfect. Lelouch is not content in the memory—he is still thinking of Suzaku walking away, turning away and leaving Lelouch masked and speechless in the warehouse, and because they are brilliant, he is not sulking about it but making plans. Plans to keep him. Plans to bring him over to Zero's army. Plans to manipulate, to communicate, to change the constant repetition of no, no...because he __wants__ Suzaku on his side. Because he doesn't want...this._

_The plans are of little concern to the clone, or to the dream. They are plans for the past, to change events that didn't change and can't be changed, now. The worries are for situations no longer relevant, at least for the moment, and beneath the plans, beneath the constant stream of thought is a perfection waiting to be lost in, in the shadows of the curtain fabric's weave on Suzaku's skin and the taste of his skin on their lips and the warmth of this and the touch of it and the right and good and whole._

_The thoughts, though, are necessarily a part of things when they move again, because this is not just a dream—this is a distant, half-lived memory._

_Lelouch moves his head again, brushes his lips once more across Suzaku's shoulder, raises his head from rest enough to kiss Suzaku's collarbone and taste salt. Suzaku smiles contentedly and rubs a thumb in circles between two vertebrae. "Mmm?"_

_Lelouch shrugs and lowers his face back to Suzaku's skin rather than form an expression. _

"_Nothing," he murmurs against the edge of Suzaku's chest, but his thoughts, the thoughts the clone doesn't need or want aren't nothing, the thoughts are '__I want you', __the thoughts are '__Why can't I have you?'__, frustration and scheming and need._

_It's only because he's become very, very used to this that the clone can make what comes next separate to that thought, dream it as touch and sensation and the simplest kinds of love and not want and the need to claim and an edge of fear. Suzaku will not come quietly to the Black Knights and see reason. And so, in his Ashford bed, in the careful mask Suzaku won't let him remove, Lelouch claims him more quietly, uselessly; for a moment's peace of mind, for a little comfort in the late afternoon._

_Mine._

_Suzaku's eyes flicker open again as Lelouch pushes his weight a little way off the bed, and a half-formed query turns to a stretched, closed-lipped, sleepy smile as Lelouch leans over him and brushes a kiss just above his right nipple, and another, and another right in the centre of his chest. Strong fingers twitch a little and stay where they are, one hand laced with Lelouch's, one in the small of Lelouch's back, because both are itching to card through Lelouch's hair but Lelouch hates feeling like Suzaku's guiding his movement and Suzaku knows that. Lelouch kisses slowly, slowly down Suzaku's sternum and lets the taste of his skin, imaginary echoes of cedar wood and cypress, warmth and salt and water, familiarity and stability, ground him with the feeling of hard muscle beneath the tip of his tongue as he teases a line out toward the beat of Suzaku's heart._

_Suzaku shivers—twitches—clenches every muscle in his body not to raise his hips._

_Lelouch smirks, and lets just the tip of his tongue between his teeth, and licks just the tip of Suzaku's left nipple, and Suzaku moans through lips clamped shut and tries to grip the sheets without crushing Lelouch's fingers, and all the doubts and fears and unease in Lelouch's mind ebb away._

_Suzaku is __his__. Of course he's his. He'll come back to him soon enough._

_Of course he will._

The thought belongs to both of them, in both times, and Lelouch's clone tries not to remember how long and how much pain it took for that certainty to prove justified the first time.

It doesn't matter. Not right now.

Focus on feeling. Focus on the way he doesn't pull away.

Remember.

_He makes Suzaku wait just a moment, blowing softly on the damp skin, letting him shiver and beg with his eyes for one second, two seconds, three—before nipping there hard, soft flesh good between his teeth. He sucks it in before the gasp can leave Suzaku's mouth, sucks it in to run his tongue in circles and tease and arouse and feel Suzaku's nipple hard between his lips and feel Suzaku's body shaking just slightly beneath him with the effort of stillness and know that Suzaku's erection will be hard and weeping and desperate for his mouth by the time he chooses to grace it with his attention._

_Suzaku __needs_ _him. Wants him._

_Belongs with him._

_Always._

_When he pulls back, he blows on the glistening nipple again just to feel Suzaku's hips jerk up half an involuntary inch beneath him. He straddles him properly before he turns to the other side, and he's careful, very careful not to let their erections brush, because Suzaku is going to be __desperate_. _T__he moment it takes to shift his legs is more than enough time to see that Suzaku is, indeed, very much aroused, and very much erect, and exerting an amount of effort that only Suzaku would ever bother with to keep his hips flat on the mattress._

_Lelouch smirks again as he licks a wide circle around Suzaku's other nipple and avoids it altogether. Suzaku __pouts__. It's unimaginably satisfying. "Lelouch..."_

_Lelouch's smirk grows, and he raises an eyebrow._

_Suzaku bites his lip and rubs his thumb along one of the pale fingers still tangled in his hand. "You are the world's biggest tease."_

_But __that__ is a challenge. So Lelouch meets Suzaku's eyes instead of ducking his head again, and Suzaku knows he's in for it from the look there, and Lelouch knows the smiling, groaning resignation to something truly maddeningly fantastic. He takes a few seconds for thought, then smirks once more for good measure as he rebalances himself on his knees, lifts his free hand from the bed, stares into Suzaku's just-wavering gaze and licks a feather-light circle round his own gathered fingertips._

_Suzaku moans again, loudly._

_Lelouch __is__ a tease, a clever, cruel, luxuriant tease, and he presses two fingers into his mouth slowly, eyes still locked with Suzaku's, leaves his lips just parted enough that Suzaku can almost see him teasing them with his tongue, draws them out inch by inch and swipes them across his lips and lowers them almost halfway down to finally touch Suzaku's other aching nipple (not the stronger ache between his legs, not yet, not until he's __lost__)__ before pulling them back up and bobbing his head downright lewdly to suck himself in again, and again, and again, and only when Suzaku's whole body jerks just a little despite his practiced restraint and he lets out a muffled sound that might have been the beginning of a groan does Lelouch press the wet pads of his fingers to Suzaku's hard, dry right nipple, and then his lips, and then his open mouth, sucking, then biting, then teasing one more time with the tip of his tongue before drawing back to see Suzaku's face._

_Suzaku's cheeks are flushed, and the light is dimmer now, evening, the sun beginning to set in earnest, but it's enough, and he wants this finished before the sun goes down. He wants Suzaku to watch him do it, and he wants to see the look on Suzaku's face as he comes down, the look that says 'I would follow you anywhere' and means it with every beat of his heart. Even if it's only because he doesn't know._

_Lelouch replaces his hand on the mattress by Suzaku's shoulder, leans over, and presses one slow, almost chaste kiss to his neck. Suzaku shivers, and Lelouch's own erection is pushing him on. He whispers into the hollow of Suzaku's throat, into the most sensitive place, the place where you can push something as blunt as a pencil and press through to the trachea and burst the breath and kill. The most vulnerable—the most intimate place. He's not going to make Suzaku beg—he wants to claim, not to fulfil. He presses his lips against the soft skin, and speaks there, lips brushing the warmth. "I want to suck you off."_

_Suzaku's whole body jerks again, and Lelouch can feel the restraint in the hand he's still holding._

_He smiles. "Shall I take you in my mouth, Suzaku?"_

_Suzaku breathes heavily, bends his neck to try to kiss the top of Lelouch's head, presses his hips down into the mattress. "Y--" Choked and heady and cut off by breath._

"_Will you come for me, Suzaku?"_

_Suzaku arches right off the bed, head pressing back into the mattress, desperate for touch, and Lelouch nips at his exposed neck and kisses the tiny white marks he leaves._

"_Yes," Suzaku whispers, murmurs, voice lost somewhere indefinable, "Yes—Lulu..."_

_Lelouch nips his throat again—"Don't call me that—" and doesn't kiss it better, just for emphasis, before sitting back up straight and shuffling back on the bed and it's all one fluid, long-limbed movement from his head at Suzaku's throat to his head at Suzaku's hips, one hand still clasped. Suzaku's whole body is strung tight as Lelouch just breathes—in, out. In. Out._

_Suzaku's cock twitches with each soft breath across the skin._

_Lelouch chuckles quietly._

_Perfect._

"_Lelouch...pl—"_

"_Shhh."_

_Lelouch looks up and sure enough, Suzaku is peering down as best he can, eyes pleading, and Lelouch stops smirking just long enough to smile, properly._

_And then he presses down Suzaku's hips with one probably useless hand, and presses the thumb of the other into Suzaku's palm, and dares Suzaku with his eyes to come too soon. He ducks his head and pushes his tongue out past his lips and licks a long line along the length of Suzaku's erection and tastes precum and sweat and skin and __Suzaku__ and feels more at peace than he ever does at any other time of day, than he ever does with a mind clear enough to worry that this will never be without pretend._

_Right now, this __is__ without pretend. Right now, he's just Lelouch, and the sounds Suzaku makes in bed make him lust so hard he almost forgets how stupidly in love he is, and how weak that makes him._

_Right now, he can't hate this._

_Suzaku does his best to hold his hips to the bed, and Lelouch presses them down with his one free hand, and Suzaku gasps and moans and mumbles strings of senseless, needy words about love and beauty and gods and love and love and Lelouch sucks hard on the tip and swallows precum and dips low again, takes Suzaku just to the back of his mouth then draws up, tongue swirling round the shaft as he goes until he's at the tip again._

_He's getting good at this—or rather, he's getting good at doing this to Suzaku, because he's attentive and __observative__ and scheming and remembers everything. Lelouch holds the tip between his lips and draws his tongue back into his mouth so he can press it there as he goes back down, press the tip of his tongue to the tip of Suzaku's cock until it slips between the skin and moves under the foreskin and Suzaku's fist clenches in his and what sounds like a curse flies from Suzaku's lips. He's close, so close, his restraint slipping by the second so Lelouch takes him in again, further, takes him back just a little into his throat, as far as he can, almost all the way, and off again, and back down, and faster, and faster, until the weight and the taste and the heat of Suzaku in his mouth is like identity being stripped away and little shards of separate colliding and fusing and becoming one and faster, faster so he's dizzy and lightheaded and Suzaku's panting, moaning, low and fast and faster until Suzaku cries out and unclenches his fist to grab Lelouch's wrist and it's more than warning enough because Lelouch is __so__ ready because this is good, this is right, this is together and whole and warm and safe and wonderful, doubtless, and Suzaku comes until Lelouch's mouth feels full and then some, and he has to gulp awkwardly not to spill any, but he swallows it, and keeps Suzaku in his mouth as he comes down, sucks the remainder from the tip until it's all gone, then pulls back just enough to lick the last stickiness off the shaft as Suzaku's free hand comes finally to stroke clumsily through his hair, other hands still tangled together._

_Suzaku lets Lelouch lick and preen for all of about six seconds after he's half-conscious again before he tugs insistently on his hand and then at his chin, until Lelouch slides back up Suzaku's body. Their lips meet once, twice and it's slow now, warm, still a little clumsy, and Suzaku's got both arms wrapped around Lelouch like he'll never go anywhere else._

_Long, warm moments full of incoherent murmuring later Suzaku tries to move to return the favour, but Lelouch shakes his head and insists he use his hand instead, because it's good to look into each other's faces, good to press lips together, lazily, one hand still joined._

_In the real time, in the real place, sixteen months ago Lelouch also knew that it was __his__ gesture for his own comfort, knew that he wanted to undo Suzaku that way, not to be undone himself; that he wanted to focus on that perfectly executed plan, tied off with a neat finish—jerking and gasping into Suzaku's hand, coming gloriously over their stomachs again with the heady rush of a second orgasm in one afternoon—evening—and the last light of sunset glaring across their faces through the muslin. He had claimed Suzaku for the evening, and his plan had worked, and it felt good, even if it meant nothing. Even if it would feel pathetic when Suzaku put his clean, garishly orange army uniform back on tomorrow afternoon._

_In the dream, though, there was very little thought. In the dream, everything was just perfect._

In starched sheets and newly stained white trousers, Lelouch's clone stretched happily in his sleep. Somewhere in his memory-filled dreams, Lelouch—they—were happy, and Suzaku was happy, and everything was perfect. And for the first time since last waking up, Lelouch's clone was completely free of pain.

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NB: So, there you are :P So, so sorry it's been such a very long time; I am the worst updater in the world :S I have the fic a lot more worked out now; hopefully the next update will be somewhat quicker ;D This fic is very experimental for me, and there are a few things in this chapter I'm still a bit :S about, so please let me know what you liked and what you didn't! Feedback would be very very much appreciated; I want to do the best I can for next chapter :D Oh, and feedback on chapter length is extra helpful; some people want every chapter to be 25K :P, some like them broken down to 5K or 2K...let me know what you guys prefer :)

Thank you so much to those who've kept on emailing me about this fic for the last almost year - you guys are endlessly patient and I would have abandoned this for other stories long ago if I hadn't had your support :) Thanks for reading, and please review! :D


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